Hircine's Hounds: The First Rangers of Skyrim
by Fenrir the Hunter
Summary: Follow a group of moral mercenaries, led by Hunter, a fugitive Werewolf from Cyrodiil, with an iron-cast moral compass and a torn soul, as he walks the razor's edge separating calm and rage, justice and vengeance, good and evil. Fleeing the empire, our tragic hero finds himself unable to turn a blind eye to the suffering of the innocent, and the struggles of his father's homeland.
1. A New Beginning

**A New Beginning**

 _7_ _th_ _Of First Seed, 4E 201_

 _It appears the Divines have given me a new lease on life, and on the day of First Planting, no less: a time to set aside past differences, and start anew. Here I sit at the lumber mill in Riverwood, a quaint town nestled down in a lush valley. The small mill town is overhung by stony crags, and hugs a crystal clear river. The tranquility of the scene before me could not contradict more the chaos that unfurled the day previous…_

There stood Hunter, tall, strong, like an oak amongst the thieves and prisoners of war; all walks of life brought together under the banner of death. For in the shadow of the stone keep that was the castle at Helgen: they were all marked. Hunter could sense the anticipation. Nearly tasting it, all could definitely smell it, as it manifested in the bodily fluids of those around him.

The piss, no matter how brave one was in battle.

The sweat, no matter how chill the spring air.

The blood, as the guard kicked another headless body aside.

Hunter looked skyward.

Spring: a new beginning. He closed his eyes, and could feel the remnants of a weak, fluttering smile crack his stone-like exterior. Soon, the little fawns would dance across the meadows of his vale, and the ice would give way to fresh salmon migrating up the stream. He could tell he was dancing the line between shock and reality, but he remained in his fantasy, if he could call it that.

It was a living memory, for the seasonal cycle had dominated the better part of his life, marking the end of yet another hard winter, and the beginning of another fruitful…

The squelch from the headsman's axe abruptly awakened him.

His eyes snapped downward, back to reality, to the still-rolling head.

He sighed, his long deep exhale frosting in the cool air. It billowed out, weaving between the shivering prisoners. Forty breaths, he estimated, maybe less. Probably less.

There resided forty more breaths in his lungs.

They knelt down another. Hunter wondered where that man had been, who his family was, what his trade was, who loved him.

The grisly thud halted his musing.

Hunter felt his lip turning in a snarl.

It does not matter anymore.

He watched the blood spurt out, and the head bounce away. It came to rest, facing the group. Some turned away, but Hunter looked on. He looked in. He peered into those lifeless eyes… and saw nothing.

Hunter could feel the rage building deep inside him.

He flexed his chains.

The soldiers had been cautious with him, ensuring to bind him in iron, unlike the majority.

Hearing the soft clinking, a guard eyed Hunter in discomfort.

Moments passed, and another soul was cut short.

Hunter could feel his body grow agitated.

The guards sensed this, and grew uneasy. One turned to the headsman, whispering in a hushed tone.

The hooded butcher nodded, turning to Hunter. Even behind the cowl, Hunter knew from his eyes it was his turn. One imperial grabbed his shoulder to shove him along, but he shrugged them off, walking over on his own accord. The soldier hesitated, momentarily taken aback, and Hunter slowly weaved through the crowd of shaken men. He stood there, pausing before the block.

He could taste the iron in the cold air.

They were cautious…

A guard put their foot in the small of his back, trying to push him down to the block.

…but not cautious enough.

Hunter whipped around, hands together, heavy chain slack, swinging it with all of his might, as if it were a flail.

Connecting with a metallic thud, the guard's teeth splintered from his mouth, eyes wide in fear, as his jaw was rent open. Hunter continued the spin, dropping low, and faced the astonished executioner. Without a moment's hesitation, he launched forward, dropping his shoulder, and bowled him over with all his might. Hunter knocked him backward and shoved past, but tumbled down after a few paces, off balance.

The prisoners scattered, some having freed themselves from their hasty binds, others charging the soldiers. It was chaos.

Hunter rolled, but could hear the world erupt around him.

Men shouted, swords were drawn.

Chaos.

And so it began.

Rolling back into a crouch, he opened his now deep crimson eyes.

Colors began to swirl, as the world went grey.

He began to flex his stiff back, as he could first feel the tension mounting in his shoulders.

They grew stiff, and then popped, sinew tearing and mending as the bones expanded.

A Stormcloak was cut down by an arrow.

Hunter's ribs ballooned out, and his spine stiffened.

Vertebrae popped out of place, then back in, as his jaw began to stretch, skin ripping like paper.

An imperial was overpowered, his sword taken.

Hunter's skin blackened, and his muscles began to tear.

Pearly, gleaming teeth became pointed and canine.

His exposed muscles steamed in the cold, as the skin thickened to a tarred hide.

Clear nails grew sharp, and midnight black.

Hunter collapsed to his hands, nearly overcome by the pain…

…Only to rear up to his full height, looking skyward to the heavens that had forsaken him.

The Hunter roared mightily, and sweeping out his arms, snapped the iron bonds at the links.

Imperials and prisoners alike all froze, terrified of the nightmare in their midst.

Silence.

The Hunter lowered his head, scanning their trembling forms.

The ground was blinding, covered with fresh blood: the thick scent permeated the air, glowing nearly white-hot and radiating up into his field of view. Inhaling sharply, he was buffeted by the thick, hanging smells as he grew accustomed to the surroundings.

Blinking, he let his flaming eyes adjust, until he was able to focus upon the men around him.

Time stood still.

The heartbeats of his prey fluttered rapidly in his ears, and their sweat wafted from them in faint wisps of warm-colored smoke.

Before anyone dared move, he sprang forward in a blur, grabbing a soldier by the side and arm in both taloned hands, splintering ribs. He plowed over him, slamming him into the ground. The Hunter could hear his bones crumble beneath the force, and retracting his hooked fingers from the man's flesh, he swiped his head with a great paw, splattering the cobblestones with stringed skin and matted flesh. He snapped his head up, eyeing the next victim.

They ran as if they were in water.

The next soldier made it only a half step away, before being leapt upon by the Great Wolf. Pinned and crushed, the man could not see the Hunter hook his claws around his head and pull it from his spine.

Many prisoners had fled in the panic, sprinting for the gate. They were being cut down by archers from the wall. Standing, and covered in glistening drops of blood, the Hunter unleased a mighty roar, arms outstretched, diverting their attention. In a few massive bounds, and one great leap, Hunter closed on the wall, and sprung onto it, bounding up it once more. He hung from one arm on the parapets.

The archers ducked back, trying to flee as he reached over, swiping with razor-like claws. He swung again, and grabbing one by the throat, threw him backwards over the parapet to his doom. One archer managed to get a shot off at his hulking form as he leapt over the rail, but it whistled over his shoulder. The Hunter stepped forward with a roar, crushing another scrambling away. He kicked the shooter backwards and down the stair with such force, he careened through wooden rail, and continued to tumble down the scaffolding.

The Hunter spun round, sensing prey, and swiped a rushing guard into the wall. He collapsed in a bloody heap, and the Great Wolf raised up, and with both fists clenched, crushed his crumpled form into Oblivion. He reared up, and surveyed the carnage.

In the distance, the Hunter could sense another threat approaching: an even greater peril. Turning, searching, his eyes locked onto an angel of death far greater than himself, just on the horizon.

Even in beast form, fear and dread shot through Hunter's heart like a shard of jagged ice, for arcing high above the frost-covered peaks, black as night, was a dragon of untold size and grandeur. It rose, spiraling and twisting into the evening sun, then curled and dropped like a missile toward the earth, wings folded back, streamlined. It gained speed, and unfurled its wings in an instant. It rushed forth, level above the trees: hurtling toward Helgen. It appeared tiny on the horizon, but within mere seconds, had nearly halved the distance to the town.

Hunter snapped his attention back to the mayhem below. Reinforcements were pouring from the keep like an angered anthill, oblivious to the approaching carnage. Some imperials were running still and donning armour, or drawing swords. The remaining prisoners had grouped together, perhaps a dozen in total. Some were still bound at the hands, attempting to wield swords, others were free, and wielding whatever weapons they could find. One simply clutched a shield, desperately trying to defend his companions. The Imperials were attempting to surround them, and would crush them momentarily if they were not stopped. Some soldiers were readying arrows, and attempting to take up higher positions from which to fire down on them.

Hunter turned, and looked over the wall at the dense forest just beyond. The imperials would not stand a chance at tracking him through those woods, much less trying to capture him. He could be long gone before the dragon. This was his ticket to freedom.

He turned back.

 _Whoosh…_

His fine-tuned ears could distinctly hear the great gusts bending the trees beneath them, and stripping the saplings of leaves.

He leapt atop the parapet, and with one last look back, he jumped.

Racing back across the courtyard, and hounding down on the largest group of imperials amassing at the door, oblivious to either approaching danger, he barreled into them, arms outstretched, clotheslining as many as he could, and thrashing within the writhing, terrified mass. Shrieks of terror could be heard as he crushed their puny bodies and swiped them with such ferocity their shields were ripped from their arms, and helmets knocked free. Within seconds, the Hunter was simply thrashing blindly, the brightness of the prey's scent clouding his vision. Within moments, the threat lay decimated about him. He reared up.

 _Whoosh…_

Louder now.

He roared at the remaining soldiers, they focused their gazes on Hunter's terrible form. This gave the prisoners the distraction they needed to attack the imperials. Hunter charged, throwing them, and swiping at them with his razor sharp claws.

 _Whoosh…_

The sound was audible to others now, the dragon was closing in.

The imperials crumpled and retreated, fleeing the wolf and the prisoners, retreating into the open. The dust and pebbles swirled, the people were buffered by a great wind. And then it hit.

The dragon landed on the keep with a mighty crash, rocks and beams breaking under the weight, and collapsing off the sides. The dragon unleashed a mighty roar, greater than anything the men and hunter alike had ever heard. People fled every which way in panic. Hunter knew there was no time for delay.

He could feel himself reverting. The roar of the dragon had struck him to his core.

He charged the great wooden doors, and ripped them wide open in a last ditch effort, his weakening muscles nearly failing him. A falling boulder bounced down, and caved in a prisoner's skull. Hunter shouted weakly at the prisoners, trying to form words.

A gout of flame incinerated a home, and swept across some archers, consuming them. The air grew thick with acrid smoke, and the screams of the dying. Colors returned to Hunter's vision, as the fuel for his rage was spent. Even in the open air, it was becoming hard to breathe.

The prisoners sprinted into the keep, and Hunter drew the door shut, relying upon his weight alone, as his body had failed him. He collapsed back, panting, and two Stormcloak soldiers slid the beams in place to brace it. His clothes were in tatters, and he felt weak, his outbreak rendering him nearly unconscious. He crawled back, slowly rising to his feet. Stumbling to the wall, he slumped over, sliding down until he was seated. Putting his forearms on his knees, he hung his head low, panting, as spittle frothed from his mouth.

It was deathly silent inside, compared to the outside chaos.

He could hear the others shuffling about, and murmuring. Occasionally a boom would rack the keep, sending drifts of dust down to the floor.

After a few moments, Hunter looked up, and examined his company. There were five in total remaining, four men, including Hunter, and one woman. They were all collapsed in some fashion, panting, and staring at him. He shook his head, and struggled to rise to his feet.

Unable to of his own accord, he slid back against the wall, and eyed the group. They were hesitant to approach him. Hunter felt ashamed, he must have terrified them.

After a few seconds of renewed struggle, another prisoner came over and lent a hand, aiding him in leaning against the wall. Hunter flexed his legs, clenching his teeth through the pain, as he managed to control their trembling of his own accord. Hunter turned to the group, and noticed a man off to the side, standing, attempting to file down his iron chains on the corner of a wall.

He was the only other prisoner that had iron chains, aside from Hunter, and his mouth was covered still by a black rag. Hunter pushed off from the wall, and slowly made his way over. He gingerly scooped up a hatchet one of the prisoners had grabbed, and stopped beside the man.

"Sir."

The man didn't so much as glance at him, just kept filing.

"Let's cut them."

Hunter gestured for the others to get up and ready.

The man stopped filing, and faced him, standing tall and proud.

Hunter gestured at the table they were standing next to with the hatchet, and the man laid his chain across it. Hunter's days at the forge served him well, and within a few well-aimed strikes, he sheared the chain in two. The man removed his gag, and spoke.

"Thank you," he said, his voice deep and steady.

Hunter nodded, subtly gripping the table as his vision narrowed. He felt incredibly weak, and the sudden activity had made him dizzy.

The group moved on after Hunter slid the hatchet back to its owner. They continued into the main tower via a narrow corridor, which eventually led to a wider hallway that turned to the right after twenty feet. There was a door to the left. Hunter continued past it with the man, a Stormcloak, and the woman supported by him. She had been shot in the leg by an arrow, and was limping. Screams and crashes could still be heard muffled from the outside. The last two men stopped to try the door. Hunter turned.

"We have to keep going, don't worry about tha-"

With a deafening crash, and an explosion of rubble and dust, the wall and door crashed inward, covering the men in an instant in boulders, and spreading smoke thick in the air. The dragon's tail swung out of view.

The group was staggered, and Hunter wheeled about, falling to his knees. The group struggled to regain their footing as the dragon walked about outside, slamming its tail against the earth. Standing, Hunter helped the woman to her feet, as the man pulled up the Stormcloak by his smock.

"Hurry!" Hunter shouted.

They ran towards the end of the hall, and as Hunter turned, he spied the dragon peering inside at them, as if they were ants in a broken open mound. They rounded the corner, and came face to face with a great wooden door. More of the keep collapsing could be heard behind them, and the vibrations shook the ground beneath their feet, knocking them down again.

"It's trying to bring the tower down!" shouted the soldier.

They clambered to their feet and charged the door, throwing their full weight against it. Hunter nearly broke his foot trying to kick the solid oaken double doors in, and stumbled back, dazed. The man waved them back. He opened his mouth and shouting in an ancient language, unleashed a mighty gust of wind, trying to blow it in, off its hinges. Dust and splinters filled the air, but it was to no avail.

They began pounding on the door to be let in, pleading with those inside. They could hear the dragon force its head through the wall, and inhale. Hunter and the man stopped, looked at the door, and pulled it wide open, pushing the soldier and woman inside and closing it, just as the dragon spewed fire down the corridor.

In the darkness, the group did not see the stairs leading down to the dungeon, and in their haste, tumbled down the stone steps. They came to a rest at the bottom, badly shaken and bruised. As soon as they stopped at the bottom platform, the woman began to scream, and in the dim light, Hunter could see her grabbing at her leg. The broken arrow was still impaled, and during the fall, she had landed on it, forcing it in deeper.

She was unable to stand, so Hunter and the man lifted her, and the soldier ran ahead, to grab a torch from the corridor. Hunter looked down, and noticed blood streaking across the floor behind them, and following the trail with his eyes, noticed that it was seeping down from her leg, under her pants. Realizing the severity of the wound, Hunter called out to the soldier, and they laid her down.

"Bring the torch, we need to see how bad this is."

Hunter told the woman to brace herself, as he gently tore the fabric to reveal the wound. Blood spurted from the aggravated wound onto Hunter, and he quickly pressed down around the arrow.

"Ah, fuck!" he shouted, trying to depress it and stymie the flow.

The woman began to scream, and tried to tear his hands away. The soldier dropped the torch to cover her mouth, and the man grabbed her arm. Eventually they subdued her, though she continued to struggle. Blood pooled between his fingers, and his hands kept slipping around. As he tried to ebb the flow, whenever the wound became visible, blood would spray out.

"It's okay, it's okay, we'll stop it. Stay with us." Hunter was scrambling.

"You, just hold her, and you, put some pressure on where my hands are okay?"

The man nodded, "Aye, lad."

"On three. One. Two." The man put his hands over Hunter's. "Three." Hunter slid his hands out, and before the man could press down, blood streamed out again.

"Shit, shit, shit." The soldier repeated.

She began to thrash around, in a state of total panic.

Hunter quickly straightened up on his knees, and tore off his shirt. She was pleading, terrified of what was happening to her, begging them to stop it in muffled tones as the soldier tried in vain to keep her quiet. Hunter ripped it into a few strips hastily, and looped one under her leg above the wound. Searching desperately for something to use to tighten it, he found none. In haste, he grabbed the two ends of the strip, and constricted her leg as tight as he could. She renewed her thrashing, nearly exhausted.

Her head began to roll.

"Stay with us! Don't close… Stop!... Don't close them! …your eyes!" Hunter stammered out between breaths.

He tied off the strip.

Blood continued to ooze through the man's fingers. He seemed undaunted by the grisly task.

Hunter grabbed the next strip, and tried to see if he could take out the arrow without causing more damage. He didn't want to take the risk, so he wrapped the arrow shaft in the strip, and slid the mass down into the gaping wound that had formed. She nearly fainted.

"Talk to her dammit!"

The soldier began to stammer out anything that came to mind, as Hunter poked a hole in another strip, and fit it over the arrow, sliding it down so it was flush with the skin. He looped it under, and over, and holding the two ends on top of her leg, smoothed out the strip. He hesitated. He glanced at the man, who nodded.

"Hold her tight"

Her eyes widened, and the soldier did so. "I'm sorry" Hunter tightened the compress on the wound. She fainted from the pain. He was careful to not move the arrow, and only tighten the pressure. He tied it off, and had the man remove his hands.

The bleeding continued, pooling under the bandages, and spilling onto the floor. They became frantic.

"Fuck!" Hunter could see there was nothing more they could do, but they had to try anyway.

As he went to tie another strip above the wound, the man grabbed his arm. He slightly shook his head. Hunter questioned him, but he just took up her small hand in his great palm, and held it in both of his. He looked at her lying there so peacefully, just waiting it out with her, as she continued to bleed out.

Her breathing was so shallow, so weak.

Who knows how long passed, but eventually it slowed…

…and then stopped altogether.

Hunter had tears in his eyes. He leaned back on his heels, and kicked back. He sat, slumped against the wall for a few moments. He was exhausted, not only physically.

He glanced away.

A few seconds passed, and as Hunter wiped his face, her blood streaked across it like a war paint. He looked down, and was nearly sickened by how much of it there was on and around him. They were slipping around in a total pool of it.

A pool of this poor woman's blood.

He composed himself. Nothing he had not seen before. This seemed so different though. He couldn't put a finger on it. The man took her hand, and kissing it, put it on her chest. He moved her other arm, and eased down her head.

Standing, he spoke, "It's time for us to move on,"

The soldier stood hesitatingly, and Hunter did the same. He picked up the torch, and they pressed on. Looking back one final time, Hunter fixed the image of her lifeless body in his mind as a reminder.

"I am Ulfric," the man said, after some time had passed, breaking the silence. "Jarl of Windhelm." It occurred to Hunter that the soldier already knew this, and was in great awe of the man. Hunter was as well, humbled by his presence. He would have extended some courtesy to this great man, but in light of all that had transpired, he was already pretty spent. "I am Ralof." They paused, waiting for him to continue.

"And I am Hunter."

The man nodded solemnly, and they continued on. After a few moments, they reached a small, rectangular room with a few holding cells, the doorway on the other side was filled with rubble. Hunter could see immediately, that the rubble was very old, covered in webs and lichen.

Hunter immediately remembered that Helgen keep was in fact a ruin, before the empire occupied it as an outpost for executions and interrogations. Set high in the very much untamed southern mountains of Skyrim, it offered a relatively private post for such unsavory matters. Hunter knew the dark woods well, as they were the northern reaches of the very same mountains Hunter used to call home.

Hunter skipped looking around the room for keys, knowing full well they would not work on the locks for their cuffs. As Ralof looked around the room for weapons, Hunter sat down in one of the cells, and began searching under the straw: eventually finding exactly what he was looking for.

He worked the lockpick around and around, remembering he was never much good at this shady talent. After the better part of a half hour, he had freed his hands and moved on to Ulfric's.

Another boom shook the keep, and dust drifted down upon them.

"Let's keep going." Ulfric repeated, eyeing the ceiling. They continued on through the winding subterranean halls, when their worst expectations were met. Rounding a corner, they came face to face with freshly fallen rubble, completely blocking their path. Without hesitation, they set to moving rubble, hoping it would lead them to the depths of the dungeon and some way out of the keep.

At one point, Ulfric stepped back:

"That was quite a display you put on out there."

Hunter kept moving rock, but nodded.

No one spoke for a little while, but kept moving rockwork.

"Is that why the empire brought you here?"

"Somewhat… Aye, well… that didn't help my case much." Hunter tried not to stammer too much, even though he was out of breath. His arms burned from tossing stone.

"So what was it then?"

Hunter remained silent, trying to think of how he should broach this subject.

Ulfric stopped digging.

"What crime did you commit to end up here?" he pressed.

"None."

A long pause.

"Where are you from?"

Hunter stood, and turned to face Ulfric. "The Northern woods of Cyrodiil, a few dozen miles south."

Ulfric nodded, "What did you do there? For work?"

"I've always hunted, but I was a blacksmith's apprentice for a little while."

"Ah, quite the noble profession."

"I liked it, yeah."

Another pause, Hunter realized Ulfric was eying him over.

His conscience was screaming at him to break the silence and tell more, which is just what Ulfric wanted.

Hunter resumed digging instead.

"I'm no criminal."

"No…" Ulfric said coldly, "No, you're not. But you have killed men before" Ulfric continued immediately.

"Aye, sir"

"Imperials?"

Hunter resumed digging without a word.

After a few moments: "Aye, sir."

Ulfric laughed, "No need to be worried, we all have…" he trailed off.

A long silence sensued.

"There must be a story behind it… For one of my men would immediately recognize me, and declare him under my banner…" Ulfric said calmly.

"…but an imperial deserter…" he continued, sinisterly.

Hunter had already realized the implications of this, but waited for him to continue. Several tense moments passed.

Stopping his digging, he turned to Ulfric, "I… uh, I know you've got no reason to believe me, but I'm neither."

Ralof chimed in, "He did kill all those guards before the dragon came."

Hunter had completely forgotten about Ralof in this exchange, but was thankful for his input. He resumed tossing stones, occasionally heaving aside a timber, and needing to catch his breath after.

"Yeah, there's a story. But, it's a bit of a long one."

"We have time." Ulfric said, slightly more upbeat.

Hunter paused in his digging, but then restarted. It was slow going at first, but he recounted as much as he dared.

"I joined the town guard to help rid our area of the bandits and vampires… and wolves, and such... They were making life difficult for everyone, and I wanted to do something about it… The town guards were not well trained, but, it was better than not joining. The guards felt their hands were tied so often, and the imperial legionnaires that passed through… they just…" Hunter paused. "You know."

Ulfric nodded, Ralof spat.

"They fuckin' sat by and watched our lands burn. Some of them were no better than bandits themselves, stealing from the bars and innkeepers, harassing some of the women. It was disgusting, and I wanted no part in it, so I started to go off on my own, or with some of the other guards that were worth their salt, and tired of this… and we would go out and deal with issues on our own. We would go out and slay wolves for the farmers, and drive out bandits, but our captain but his boot down on this and forbade it, especially after some of us got hurt."

Hunter paused, catching his breath.

"We grew even more frustrated, until one day, I was out on patrol, just guarding the market, when I saw an old man getting harassed by some of the imperial soldiers… His son had gone north to Skyrim to join your ranks, and they blamed him, they took it out on him, you know?"

Hunter resumed digging. "They started with just taunting him, then it got worse."

Ulfric nodded, listening intently. "They knocked down his wares, and began to beat him."

"I… I just got so damned angry, and I just… I snapped."

There was a long pause. Hunter stared at the rubble with his back to them.

"They tracked me down, and brought me here for execution. Across the border, you know, so there was no sort of news travelling that I was a Stormcloak sympathizer, or the rebellion had crossed over or… any of that."

They paused a while.

"So you really are not one of my rebels."

Hunter shook his head. "No, sir, just a fugitive."

"Then… why did you fight? More so, why did you save my men, and even after, come back? You saw that dragon approaching, I know you did… You had ample time to flee… and yet here you are, because you came back to ensure my men had a chance."

Hunter shrugged, somewhat embarrassed, and still a little shell shocked.

"If you are not truly a son of Skyrim, nor one of my men…"

"It was the right thing to do."

Another long pause. "I see…Well, we could use men like you, you know."

No response. Hunter freed a great boulder, and it tumbled down the face. Dirt poured into its place. Hunter began scooping that out.

"Have you thought about our cause before?"

"Yes, sir. Quite a bit… I guess… well…My town just needed me more."

"How so?"

"Well, like I said, the imperial soldiers did little to protect the town, so I joined the guard to help protect everyone against the bandits and wolves, locally."

Hunter stuck his feet into the hole, and hanging from a wooden beam, pushed out the rest of the debris, opening a hole to the other side just big enough for a man to fit through. He turned back to them.

"…Now that that's gone," he continued, brushing the dirt form his hands, "well, I really hadn't given the future a whole lot of thought on the way here."

"Looks like you'll have to time to think about that after all," Ulfric said, smiling.

Hunter smirked, "Let's get out of here first."

The hall continued, but the wall had been busted down to the left, and opened to the main chamber stairwell of the keep. They continued down it. While Ulfric and Hunter were unarmed, Ralof held an imperial longsword at the ready. They progressed to a door leading into another dungeon, an angular room with holding cells. No one was present, but there was a dead, mutilated Stormcloak soldier in the cell. Ulfric stopped, kneeled, and paid his respects.

Hunter picked up a great Warhammer leaning against the wall, and handed it to Ulfric. Nodding, Ulfric rose, and they pressed on, through the dark, dank tunnels, and came to a stairwell. At the bottom was a door, and voices sounded within. They crept to the bottom of the stair, cautious, and thankful the soldiers were creating their own distraction. They peered through the fenced window, hanging back out of view from the light. There was an imperial soldier leaning against the door, directly against the bars. There were two more to the left of the door, and two on the right. There was a table in the middle and a pillar in the center, against which the table was pushed. One of the soldiers sat on the far side of the table, upon which lanterns and food sat, with another soldier directly behind him.

"I told you, we have to go out there and see if anyone is still alive" said the far one. He had a bow.

"Fuck that shit. I won't do it," said the one to the left of the door.

A resounding yeah echoed through the room.

"So we just _leave_ them?"

Hunter nodded to Ulfric, and gestured to the one at the door, the left, and far right with the bow as Ralof's and his.

"No one leaves here, not on my-" his words were cut short as Ralof slid his sword through the grate which punched through his throat. Hunter slammed the door open with his shoulder, and the force wrenched Ralof's blade free. Ralof charged left as Hunter barreled in, and skewered one imperial straight through the gut before he could even draw his sword.

Ulfric shouted through the room, knocking the soldier in the far left back, clear off his feet and into the wall. The far right soldier was about to fire his bow, when Hunter hurled a chair across the room, knocking him off balance.

Ulfric blocked the overhead attack of the soldier who had been seated at the table, and bashed the side of his face, knocking him down. In one great chop, Ulfric crushed his chest with his great Warhammer.

Hunter ran past him as the archer prepared again to fire, and threw the lantern at him. The lantern hit him right above the eye, stunning him just enough for Hunter to close in. Ulfric finished the one he had shouted down. Hunter kicked the bowman's knee in as he staggered backwards.

He took him to the ground, and began pummeling him, dealing massive blows with his right fist, while holding his throat with his left. Soon, he fell unconscious.

They looked around, nodding to one another, and stepped over the bodies to move on. Hunter bid Ralof grab a knapsack and take the food. Hunter picked up the bow and slung the arrows over his shoulder, stopping to examine the unconscious soldier. He took the soldier's dagger, and buckled the sheath to his belt, leaving him badly beaten, but alive.

Deeper into the keep they continued, as the hallways got progressively narrower and more like tunnels. Hunter grabbed Ralof just before he was about to round a corner. Hunter crouched, drew an arrow, and slowly peeked around the corner, hugging the wall tightly. Seeing a sentry posted at the end of the tunnel, he exhaled quickly, and loosed the arrow. Whistling rapidly the twenty meters down the hall, it plunged through his neck. The sentry twisted slightly, gurgling, and dropped his own bow. In short time, he fell to his knees, weakly grabbing at his chest and throat. They rounded the corner, as he toppled forward, face-down.

Deeper into the keep they went, as the tunnels twisted and wound more and more the further they explored. Along the way they looted barrels and supply crates for food and anything they could use. The tunnels became more subterranean in nature, and in short time, the tunnels gave way to caves. After some more walking they came to a cavern. The cavern was shaped as a pointed oval, with the left side being about two meters higher than the right, and a cliff running long ways in the middle. There was one sentry on the lower level. He was leaning against a rock, flipping a coin, facing away from them. Hunter leaned out from the corridor; arrow knocked, and took aim.

He exhaled lightly, and then fired.

The sentry shifted his weight, and the arrow went careening past him, clattering loudly against the rockwork. He glanced over, surprised, then dropped down behind the boulder, shouting as he went.

"Fuck!" Ralof said, rushing forward. Hunter swiftly went after him, and the sound of their footsteps flushed him out. Sprinting and bent double, the soldier scrambled to get away from them. The soldier ran around a boulder, and Hunter loosed another arrow, catching him mid-thigh. With a howl, he clutched his leg and fell. Ralof charged up, and ran him through the midriff as he rolled over in pain. Within moments, six soldiers charged through the far entrance.

"Spread out," barked the leader. They did so, and began searching for the prisoners, by now hidden behind different boulders in the dim light. The soldiers fanned out and began sweeping the room. One inched closer and closer to Hunter, and saw the body. Hunter could see him look around wildly, and need only step forward to practically stumble over Hunter himself.

Inexplicably, he turned, and taking advantage of the opening, Hunter sprung up behind him, covered his mouth, and punched the dagger through his leather armor into his back. He dragged him behind the rock as well. Seconds later, an archer nearly tripped over Ralof, who stuck him in the belly with his sword, dropping him with a horrible scream. It was on.

The captain shouted out the target, and the archers tried to scramble atop boulders for shots. Hunter popped up, knocking an arrow, and dropped one easily with a shot to the chest. He ducked back, and after knocking another arrow, he moved to the other side. Swiveling around, he loosed another arrow.

Spiraling midflight, it also embedded into another imperial's chest. Ulfric blocked the overhead slash of the captain, and kicked him in the groin. He doubled over, and without hesitation, Ulfric capped the back of his head with a downward strike as if it were a peg. The captain collapsed in a heap at his feet. Ralof was circling the last imperial as Hunter hit him in the side with an arrow, and Ralof ran him through. They paused, chests heaving, as the panic subsided.

"Thanks for distraction with that first one." Hunter said to Ralof, as he kicked the rock he had tossed earlier.

"No trouble, kinsman."

Shortly thereafter, they came to the bunkroom the soldiers had come from. They all donned cloaks, and gathered packs to carry food and water. Ralof left the sword, and picked up a handaxe, as Hunter donned boots and a shirt. Eventually, the tunnel met with an underground stream, and they could feel the wind on their faces, a surefire indicator of an exit. They followed it downstream. Finally, the cave began to lighten up, and it opened to a high cavern with stalagmite columns. This opened up into a round cave with a mouth leading to the outside.

Ralof laughed, "Homeward bound, eh?"

Hunter tried to keep him quiet.

"What?" He said, oblivious to the danger.

Then, he heard the breathing. Slowly turning and crouching low, they could make out the furry shape of a large grizzly bear, sleeping in the center of the room.

"Let's sneak around it."

"I'd rather you pump it full of arrows." Ralof said.

Hunter thought about it.

"You might be stealthy enough to sneak by, but we'll surely wake it." Ulfric continued, along Ralof's train of though.

Ulfric and Ralof continued, as if Hunter had agreed, bracing for the fight.

"You haven't guided us wrong yet, just be sure it doesn't get up after you wake it." Ralof reminded.

Hunter began warming his fingers. Speed would be crucial here. He nocked an arrow, and nodded to them. They turned, and focused. He drew it all the way back, and sent it directly into the side of the bear's neck, turning its head slightly from the force. It opened its big brown eyes, clearly enraged.

Hunter nocked another and sent it whistling behind its shoulder as it rose, near its heart. Ulfric readied his stance, and tightened his grip. The bear squared off and roared. Hunter sent another to the back of its throat.

It fell to all fours, and shook its head, working its jaw. Blood-thickened froth fell from its lips. It snorted, and charged, lumbering towards them. Ralof stepped ahead and Ulfric waited behind, in accordance with the unspoken plan. As it drew close, he side-stepped to the right of the bear, and executed a clockwise turn, in order to maximize the force of impact. The swipe hewed the bear's jawbone from its skull, and left the war axe embedded. He dove aside, and as its momentum kept it travelling forward, about to collide with Ulfric, he brought the hammer down through its head.

Ulfric cleaned the caked dirt and gore off of his hammer. Hunter retrieved his arrows, and they stepped over the furry mass, nearing the mouth of the cave.

"Time to go."

They paused before the exit, staring out into the blackness of the night.

"Where to now?"

"I have a sister in Riverwood, along the northbound road... she'll help us." Ralof said.

"Time for me to follow then, eh?" Hunter replied.

The companions hiked a few more hours, until stopping and resting in the hollowed pit of an overturned tree on the banks of the White River. It began to rain lightly, so the trio gathered branches and made a lean-to. By the time they finished, the rain had picked up, and they were unable to find dry wood for a fire. Hunter rinsed the blood from himself, and returned to the hut. They ate a meager supper of the supplies they had taken from the keep: bread, apples, and raw vegetables. Despite the cold and wet, their cramped shelter was quite the relief to the trio. After a few hours of light dozing, they gathered their things, broke down their impromptu camp, and continued on to Riverwood.

Eventually, they could see torches in the distance. Ralof hung back with Ulfric off the trail, until Hunter went ahead and ensured the coast was clear. Ralof led them through the quaint hamlet, to a small island situated in the middle of the river. On the island was a large lumber mill, complete with a waterwheel. The scent of freshly-hewn lumber hung in the air, even though it was far after hours.

"Shit…" Ralof began. "They're already home… my mistake."

They turned, glancing about, and walked up the road past the tavern. Unlike the rest of the town, music and laughter could be heard drifting from inside. Ralof led the others to perhaps the largest house in Riverwood, and knocked on the door.

Hunter shifted nervously, as they were completely exposed now.

Hunter and Ulfric looked around, knowing full well, that if there were any imperials watching the town, they were in trouble. Ralof knocked again.

No response.

Minutes ticked by.

The group was getting anxious.

"Gerdur…" Ralof whispered, "It's me, Ralof, open up."

No response. He knocked again, louder.

"We should get moving, this is dangerous." Hunter said.

Ralof ignored him.

"We need your…"

The door slowly swung open part way, and a man stood there.

His eyes lit up. "Ralof! By Talos, it _is_ you!"

He opened the door fully, and gestured the haggard bunch in. Quickly peeking out to checking for prying eyes, the man closed the door again. Barring it once more, he set a hand axe down on the table.

Apparently they were not the only ones being cautious, Hunter remarked silently.

Ulfric and Hunter stood by the fire place as Ralof and the man clasped arms, and embraced. The man called in a hushed voice down the hall, and a woman appeared. Rushing up to Ralof, she exclaimed:

"Ralof! Dear brother! How are you? Are you hurt?"

"No, no Gerdur, I'm fine. Something happened at Helgen."

Her eyes grew wide. "What? What do you mean something happened? Why were you _there_?"

He sighed, and glanced at us. She looked at us too and questioned him again.

"There was… we were…" He then dove right into the story, which took several minutes to relate, and was benchmarked by numerous gasps from Gerdur, and head shakes from the man.

Apparently, his troop of soldiers were ambushed and captured at Darkwater Crossing by the imperials, completely overwhelmed. They were lumped with a group of other prisoners for execution. The man banged his fist on the table. "Those traitorous dogs!"

Ralof continued and told of the struggle that ensued. Hunter held his breath. Lycans weren't particularly welcome guests in Skyrim, nor anywhere else for that matter.

He need not worry, for Ralof simply said that Hunter started the struggle with the guards, and ended up saving a lot of the prisoners certain death, at least by giving them a fighting chance. He then got to the bad part.

"Well, we got the upper hand at the beginning, but then things started looking pretty grim, as word got out, and reinforcements started coming in. Then… you know… a, um, well… a dragon attacked Helgen." He paused.

Gerdur did not even seem to register what he had said. Gerdur's son, however, chimed in from the hallway.

"A Dragon! Did you slay it Uncle Ralof? Did you make a sword from his bones?" At that, Gerdur hopped up, startled, and shooed him away, and covered her mouth, astonished.

Hunter and Ulfric, warming themselves by the fire, exchanged knowing glances as he continued. The man, Gerdur, and Ralof began hurriedly discussing the implications, ultimately believing the grim news. Gerdur quickly composed herself, and for the first time, addressed Hunter and Ulfric.

"Please forgive me, what kind of hostess am I? You have endured such great perils, please, I will fetch you something to eat. Drink, maybe?" She bustled out the room before either could argue, and called the man from the kitchen. Ralof made his way over to his companions, and pulled up chairs by the fire. They sat, and stoked it.

"My brother-in-law is a good man, Hod, he can be trusted as well, I can assure you."

"I can tell he harbors no love for the Imperials." Ulfric agreed.

"Must run in the family." Hunter remarked with a grin.

The trio chuckled, grateful for the fire's warmth. Even spring in Skyrim could sap the warmth from a weary traveler quickly. Hunter reminded himself to not forget that, or it could be the death of him.

At length, Ulfric spoke. "Ralof, Hunter, we cannot delay. The imperials will be scouring these mountains for any survivors come sunrise, perhaps even before then. We had better move on quickly while there is still time."

"Yes mi'Lord, she will bring us some supplies for the trip to Windhelm, and we can then move at once."

Ulfric nodded. "Hunter?"

Hunter glanced over to Ulfric.

"You do intend on accompanying us… do you not?"

Hunter stammered for words. "I… well, I had not given it much thought."

Ulfric paused, and Hunter knew he could read him like a book.

"That is fine." He leaned in. "When you have given it enough thought, seek me out. We… Skyrim, needs more men like you."

Gerdur returned, bringing plates of food. Ulfric was locked on Hunter still.

Hunter paused a while. "Aye, sir."

"Very good." Ulfric stood, and grabbed Hunter's shoulder, looking him briefly in the eye. He then straightened and removed his hood, facing Gerdur and Hod.

They both gasped, realizing the man before them. Gerdur nearly dropped the food, and they both fell to a knee.

"Please, rise." They did so at his command voice. "Your hospitality has saved the lives of our trio, and breathed new life into the dying rebellion. For that, I, and the people of Skyrim, are eternally grateful." They nodded hastily, standing.

"Time is short, and dawn approaches, we must make for Windhelm before the vice closes, and the imperials grow wise of our whereabouts. We have asked much of you already, may we trouble you further?"

They both nodded again hastily. "Of course, mi'Lord."

Ulfric smiled in appreciation, and Hunter got to his feet. "We require two horses. We must ride swift and light."

"I can give you two of my draft horses from the mill."

"You realize I cannot compensate you, perhaps for a long time." He said, as he bid Ralof eat.

"Anything for our king." Gerdur interjected.

He thanked them, and grabbed a loaf of bread, and a waterskin. "I am no King yet."

"Sir, please, sit and eat, I'll help Hod with the horses." Hunter said.

Ulfric thanked him with a nod, and sat, ravenously eating the food.

Hod and Hunter made their way outside, and back to the mill.

"I am Hod, by the way, things got a bit hectic back there, didn't get the chance to proper introduce myself." He said, extending his hand.

"Hunter" he replied, shaking hands.

"Listen, we really can't thank you enough for bringing our kin back to us, my sister would…"

"It's no trouble, he's a good man… Really, he saved my life as much as I saved his."

Hod nodded, and they saddled up the horses. As they led them back to the house, Hunter saw lights far down the trail, coming from the south.

They froze.

" _Move_." Hunter hissed.

Hod saw the lights, and they hurried the horses up the road and behind the houses. Hunter rushed Hod inside, while he snuck around the palisade, and slipped back south, moving between the bushes like a wolf stalks prey. He continued in the direction of the lights, slipping behind boulders and under saplings, boots padding on the soft ground. When he was about a dozen paces up the trail from the torches, he ducked behind a great oak tree, out of sight.

And so Hunter waited. The voices grew louder. He peered around the tree, verifying they were oblivious to his presence.

Imperials.

Eight of them.

They were on a mission, marching with haste toward Riverwood.

He could probably kill some of them, possibly all. Hunter feared, however, that he may be too weak to take his wolf form. Even worse, if they went missing, the town would pay. He had to make it back and send off Ralof and Ulfric immediately.

Without hesitation, he sprinted carefully off toward Riverwood. Racing through town, out of breath, he ran up to the door, and swung it open.

"They're coming."

Ulfic and Ralof jumped up, and Gerdur led them out the back. They donned their hoods, and sprung up onto the horses. Gerdur held Ralof's hand to her cheek, and bid him luck and goodbye. Hunter stood back, and nodded to the both of them.

"I'll see you again, friend," said Ralof.

Ulfric continued, "I eagerly await that day."

With a nod to Gerdur and Hod, and a quick thanks, they were off. They trotted through the town, away from the road, and linked up with it on the other side, remaining out of sight of the soldiers, until they too disappeared. Gerdur leaned against Hod, and he pulled her close. Hunter slipped inside, scooped up his ruck, quiver, and bow, and donned his cloak. He reached the front door prepared to sprint off, but Gerdur stopped him.

"You do not have to leave, we…"

"If they find me here, I… I fear for your family, I must move on."

She made to argue, but Hod grabbed her arm and nodded.

"Thank you both for your hospitality. I…"

Hod interjected quickly. "There is a fallen tree on the other side of the White River, past our mill, the trunk has been hollowed out over time, and it is big enough for a man to fit. You should rest there until the morn."

Hunter glanced back at the road, time was running short.

Hod had Gerdur ran inside, and continued. "Once dawn has broken, we will begin working the mill, if the Imperials have passed, I will leave a lit lantern on the side of the island closest to you."

Gerdur returned, with a brown wool blanket rolled tightly in twine, and a small parcel of food. She placed the parcel in his ruck, along with a waterskin, and fixed the rolled blanket to the outside. Hod continued, "If you see that light, swim over, and you can stay with us as long as you need. We can give you any things you require for your journey then."

Hunter nodded, and Gerdur touched his arm, thanking him silently. Hunter shook Hod's hand, and was off into the night.

He wove through buildings, stealthily stalking through the town, crawling under porches, and crouching behind barrels. Eventually he came to the main road.

The Imperials had arrived.

"Shit," he whispered, cursing his slow movements. He should have just headed northward out of town.

Swiftly, he crawled under the wooden stairs leading to the Inn, and peered out from behind some ferns. His many years of stalking game had served him well.

The Imperials split into groups of two, one pair going toward the mill, another down the road, the third toward the homes, including Gerdur's, yet the fourth hesitated. Hunter shifted his weight; an old bottle of ale was directly beneath him, poking his side. He pushed it aside.

Hunter examined the pair. One was of a higher rank, the commander of the group, the other a simple infantryman.

Hunter's heart sank as they turned, and came directly at him.

He leveled himself, burying his face in the grass and dirt.

He could hear the clicking of the metal studs on the officer's boots as he stepped.

They came closer, and he gripped his dagger, holding his breath.

The officer began to climb the stairs directly above him.

 _Click, Clack, Click, Clack, Click_.

The soldier followed behind, and made his way up the stairs.

 _Thud_.

"Fuck." The soldier hissed.

Hunter flinched, and glanced upward in panic.

The soldier had tripped over himself, and braced himself on the stairs.

Hunter could see his face, his eyes. There was no way he wouldn't see him if he hesitated any longer.

The officer turned to face him. He scoffed.

"You damn oaf! Get the fuck up!" The officer spat.

Hunter turned his head back down to avoid the torchlight.

If he were to only…

"Wait!"

Hunter froze.

"Sir, there's a guy down there!"


	2. Messenger

**Messenger**

"What? Get up!" He shoved the soldier backward, and jumped over the rail. "Oi! You! Get the fuck outta there!" He grabbed Hunter by the scruff of his cloak, and tried to drag him out. Hunter remained face down, petrified.

"I said, _out_! You lazy Nord fuck!" He hollered, tugging at the cloak.

Hunter was struck with an idea.

The officer continued to yell and shout, and Hunter began to stir, grumbling. He slowly began to shift his weight. The officer stepped back, and shoved his soldier forward, gesturing for him to drag Hunter out, as the officer looked on, fuming.

Hunter crawled out, being half drug by the Imperial. He rose to his knees, and looked around, rubbing his neck, feigning confusion.

"Do you think he's one of the prisoners?" The soldier asked the officer.

Hunter pretended to sway slightly, as he looked up at them.

The officer sneered down at him. "Nah, he's a fucking drunk," he said, eyeing the empty bottle in Hunter's hand.

Were the stakes lower, Hunter would have laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. "Oi, I ain't no drunk, I earn…" he began, pretending to slightly slur his speech.

The captain was having none of it, and boxed his ear. "Fucking drunkard." Hunter fell over purposefully, curling up. The captain scoffed and appeared disgusted.

"Lowlife" he sneered, stepping over him. As he passed, he wiped the mud from his boot on Hunter's cloak. The captain stormed up the stair and slammed the inn door behind him, grumbling how he already had to deal with complacent men. The other soldier stepped around Hunter, and hurried up the stair behind the officer. Hunter rolled over, and got up. He wiped some of the mud off, and sat a moment, breathing a sigh of relief. He stood, pulling out his rucksack quickly, and continued on to the mill.

Once he made it to the river, he stripped down after securing his belonging in his pack. Although the spring runoff had bolstered the flow of the river, he managed to pick out a route, and wade across without difficulty. Once on the other bank, he dried off, and being careful to not leave tracks on the mud, hopped gracefully from stone, grass, and log alike. Peering around for danger and occasionally back at Riverwood, he found the hollow with no trouble, and made his way inside. Bundling up for the night, and completely concealing himself and his ruck with the brown blanket and some moss, he quickly fell into a light, but well-earned slumber.

 _8_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E 201_

Hunter awoke soon before dawn to the sound of the songbirds, and after ensuring the coast was clear, peered across the river. The town seemed peaceful enough, and he noted smoke already billowing up from stone chimneys. The familiar clang of metal on metal met his ears, and he poked out further to see the local blacksmith up and about at the forge. He squinted at the mill. Sure enough, a lantern sat on his side of the river, obscured from town. Hunter bundled up his belongings, and waded across. Hod was nearby, hewing some planks.

Tiptoeing, Hunter walked up, and helped hold the beam still. Hod glanced up and smiled, warmly greeting him and shaking his hand.

"Glad to see you survived the night," he joked.

"Barely, no trouble on your side of the river?"

"Nothing noteworthy, a pair of imperials came by, knocking on doors in the wee hours of the morn, asking if anyone had seen any strangers about."

"I ran into two of them by the inn, they thought I was a drunk."

Hod laughed, setting down the saw, "Well, they lose their quarry, _and_ haven't helped their cause in the town. Not after waking up these hard-working folk!" He smiled, and took a look at the mountains across the river.

He paused. At length he continued, clearly in awe, "Beautiful aren't they? Lived here my whole life, and you know… waking up every day to work at the foot of those peaks…" he trailed off.

Hunter nodded, "Never gets old does it?"

Hod looked at him and winked, "That's right."

They looked back at the frost covered peaks, and stood in silence a moment. The stunning view, combined with the realization that his own father may have admired these same peaks, sent a slight shiver down his spine.

Eventually Hod turned to him and continued, "Gerdur's expecting you, she's… got a bit of a favor to ask. From the whole town, really."

Hunter looked at him, puzzled.

"Nothing bad, just… well, she'll fill ya in."

He punched Hunter on the arm, and smiled, returning to his work.

Hunter continued on, passing some chickens in the road. He nodded to the blacksmith, who acknowledged him in return, as he wound his way up to the house. Stopping at Gerdur's door, hand outstretched to knock, he hesitated, unsure of what his actions would cause.

He shrugged it off, and knocked. Gerdur opened the door hardly before he rested his hand back to his side.

Hod was right, he thought, she literally was waiting for him. Gerdur bid him enter, and he did so, forcing a small smile. She had a plate prepared, and after ushering him in, and taking his cloak, he dug right in.

"You must be starved." Hunter nodded, and composed himself, trying to act somewhat civilized. He continued to eat, but nodded.

"I… presume my husband spoke with you already…"

Hunter stopped. "Aye. He said you had a favor to ask?"

"Yes, well…" She seemed uncertain.

Hunter interjected. "I would be happy to help. You put a lot at stake helping us."

"But you, you put a lot at stake helping my brother. What we've done has been repayment, or an attempt at such. What I'm about to ask however, is extra." She studied him carefully as she said this.

Hunter nodded.

"The dragon poses a great threat to our town, and the Hold as a whole. We need to be prepared. Would you… Could you…" she sat, with her hands on the table, "perhaps…"

Hunter nodded again, waiting for her to spit it out already.

She frowned, skeptically.

"Travel to Whiterun and notify the Jarl?"

Hunter took a second to register what she had just asked him. He blinked, and without thinking, "What?"

"I know, it's a lot to ask, but the road is dangerous, and… we can't tell anyone else lest we cause a panic, before the guards arrive, that is."

Hunter sat back, and looked at his plate. He thought a moment. If he did this, he would be diving right back into the lion's den. On the other hand, her logic was sound: the talk of a dragon would cause mayhem in the town. He brought his hands to his face, and noticed blood, still under his fingernails. That gave him pause a moment, but he turned to her.

"I'll do it, gladly."

He stood, and Gerdur was overjoyed.

"Are you sur…"

He nodded.

She hugged him. He was a bit taken aback, and patted her on the shoulder with a weak smile. She went and gathered up a parchment and some charcoal. She explained the route, drawing him a rough map with the road snaking through the woods over a bridge, down the valley and into the plains. Hunter listened intently, though he doubted he would have trouble finding a whole city.

She stepped away, and returned his cloak, as well as refilled his waterskin, moving on to wrap a loaf of bread, an apple, and a wedge of cheese in a parcel, as Hunter finished his meal. After, he rucked up, and promised to return with word. He donned his cloak and was off, bow strung over his shoulder, and quiver on his belt.

… _I continued down the cobblestone path from Riverwood for the better part of the day, though leaving town, I grew more and more uncertain as the trek wore on. At many points, I felt as though I was still simply walking to the headman's block once more. As I hiked, however, I was continuously struck by the beauty of this land, and my fears were somewhat eased. The deep, old forests with maple and oak alike teemed with deer and rabbit, my two favorite game. I even caught fleeting sight of a fox, and spied a pheasant in the few patches of undergrowth. I hated to rush, but I was on an important mission, and thus jogged for parts of the way, trying to make haste. The road danced along the White River, the clear rushing water sparkling and brimming with enormous salmon. I spotted an otter on a rock, cracking open a clam shell, only to look at me playfully, and slide back into the water. A wide stone bridge crossed the river at one point, and I naturally had to take in the breathtaking sight before me. I hopped up on the ledge, and admired the length and beauty of the river rushing underneath me. In the distance, I could even see bear swiping at the salmon jumping between them. I continued on my trail, and eventually the trees became younger, and smaller. I reached the end of the wood, and the road continued to wind down. The whole valley opened up before me, and I could see the expansiveness of the plains. The rolling hills were spotted with tiny individual landmarks like boulders, flowers, or an occasional small tree. Migrating herds of elk could be seen in the distance, their calls faintly echoing over the shallow hills. Situated right in the middle, was Whiterun. The city was surrounded by small farms, yet the wall rose from the earth like the boulders did from the hills, so ancient, it seems a part of the terrain entirely. The houses and buildings rose up throughout the city, and like the peak of a mountain, at the very top, is a great structure, the mightiest of keeps. Even the lowliest of beggars have heard of the mightiness that is Dragonsreach. I could not help but grin beholding such a sight. I paused only briefly, and descended onto the plains before midday, taking my lunch while walking. I soon cut from the road, and made straight for the city, hiking over hills in the knee-deep grass, and hopping over small streams emerging from natural springs. I would jog from spring to spring, stopping to quench my thirst between these natural waypoints. After some time, I saw some wolves shadowing me, but when I stopped and they approached, they slowly recognized me as Alpha, and slipped away to hunt. As the sun rose higher, so did the city before me, reaching upward towards the heavens, like its own peak in midst of the plains. As I drew nearer, I met up again with the road, and continuing along it another hour, reached the outer farms. They were smaller plots, like in Cyrodiil, with quaint wooden homes, complete with high A-framed roofs, thatched with hay. Occasionally, I would wave to a farmer or servant, only to be greeted in kind, and at one point a child ran alongside me on the other side of a wooden fence, tapping a stick on the slats as he went. The road began to wind upward, and eventually, I came to a crumbling, outer wall that simply served as a buffer between the farms, and passing under the archway, I entered a no-man's-land between the walls. The road swerved right, and after crossing a drawbridge passing over a stream running from the city, I passed beneath another stone archway beneath a sturdy wall. Guards cloaked in the city's color of yellow viewed me through their full-faced helmets. They bore yellow painted wooden shields, adorned with a Celtic-styled horse's head painted in brown. The road turned left sharply in a courtyard, and at last, I was at the solid wooden, metal-reinforced double doors leading into the town. A pair of guards stood on either side of it, and one approached me, raising his hand, bidding me stop…_

"Hold, traveler," he bid Hunter.

Hunter stopped, feet spread shoulder width, hands clasped in front of him in plain view. He slowly glanced upward, noting the guards with bows in hand. Hunter had no room for error here. This is exactly what he feared.

"What business have you in Whiterun?"

Hunter chose his words carefully as his heart pounded.

"I bring word from Riverwood of the dragon attack at Helgen. I wish to request reinforcements for Riverwood from the Jarl."

The guards shifted nervously, chatting amongst themselves. The guard paused, and after half glancing back toward the others, turned back toward Hunter. He removed his helm, and brown, shaggy hair fell down upon his shoulders. He had a young face, with traces of stubble upon it, he was certainly not much older than Hunter, if at all.

Stepping forward, in a quieter voice, he said quizzically, "So… the murmurs are true." Studying Hunter's face, he continued, "And, you saw this carnage?"

Hunter looked him in the eye, then lowered his head and dropped the gaze.

The man nodded. "Very well then, Jarl Balgruuf will wish to speak with you. This way."

He turned, and bid Hunter follow. As he did so, the massive gates began to open. The guard patted another on the shoulder, silently instructing him to take his place on watch.

 _…And as those magnificent doors swung open, the city of Whiterun came into my view. Like a ray of light, revealing that which has been in the shadows, the first views of the city were imprinted upon a mind previously ignorant to its splendor. The stone walk reminds me of the roads in Cyrodiil, though darker, and older in form. The doors swung open wider, in slivers exposing the details of the city, bringing them to light as well. There was a forge just within the gate to the right, and the sound of metal hammering on metal along with the hiss of steam could be heard. To the left was a plain, unassuming building, made of the same grey stone as the wall. In fact, I quickly saw, the roof of the building was flat, with a wooden platform attached via stone arch to the wall. A guard seated outside sharpening his sword dispelled the guesswork for me. We began to walk forward, and my leather boots padded softly against the stone walk. The road snaked ahead past shops and houses, all built in the same fashion, small and practical, with wooden beams at the corners supporting a wooden shingled A-frame roof. The guard and I crossed a bridge over the stream inside the gate, and began to pass the forge and barracks. The road split to the left after the barracks, and continued up a stair to a stone archway and out of sight, perhaps to another region of the city. Opposite this intersection, again to the left was a larger structure atop a small grassy hill. The sign posted revealed it to be The Drunken Huntsman. We continued down the street, continuously passed by playing children and men and women running errands, in front of numerous homes and other side streets. I quickly noted more homes to the right, back off the main thoroughfare, as well as abandoned shop stalls. Perhaps the merchants are off for the season? After the guard glanced back to me and introduced himself as Brandr, the path opened up into a marketplace, with a well in the center, and ornate, linked shops in a 'U' shape, with wooden-shingled awnings to the right. Adjacent to these shops, on the right, were several stalls, occupied this time, with merchants selling vegetables, meats, and trinkets. Straight ahead, the path continued up a series of steps to an inn dubbed The Bannered Mare. A path seemingly led through the shops to the homes lying to the right, east, though Brandr and I continued to the left, up a greater set of stairs towards a similar stone archway to that I had seen previously. We ascended the stone steps, flanked by two irrigated streams, toward the arch, which was adorned with same insignia as the shields the guards carried. The stair leveled out, and passing beneath the archway, I was struck by the grandeur before me. The stone path, made of much choicer slabs than the cobble in the market district, led straight to a stark white tree, whose knotted, long limbs hung majestically over the courtyard like rafters of an outdoor temple to Kynareth herself. The stone path circled the tree, and wooden archways straddled the walk, with lattice circling overhead, framing the Great White Tree from the air. Again, the path was lined by a shallow, contoured stream, lined with the smoothest of stone. To the left, the road continued through slightly larger homes, past a true temple to Kynareth. Slightly ahead and to the right, calling out in shrill voice was a priest, before a sizeable statue to Talos. I could not stop my mouth from slightly dropping in awe, nor prevent a stutter from entering my step, which caught Brandr's attention. He stopped with me, and upon noting my reason for pausing, wryly smiled. He agreed with me, stating his awe at seeing it for the first time as a boy. He then gestured to the right, and I saw another set of fanned stairs, leading out of view. We walked to the tree, and as we progressed, the stairs wove higher and higher, until flatting out, presenting a long rounded wooden structure, supported by great shaven trunks, with wooden walls. It took a moment to recognize that the roof was an ancient overturned boat, perhaps a hundred feet long, with wooden shields adorning the overturned rim. I knew immediately it was a great mead hall, with a long, storied history, yet my weary mind had not yet associated the sight before me and the legends of old…_

"Jorrvaskr," Brandr said.

In an instant, it immediately clicked for Hunter. The mead hall of Yrsgramor, the great hall of the Companions, was before his very eyes. The same stories of valor and triumph that had entertained his waking thoughts and dreams for so long, since hearing recounts of their fabled feats in the taverns back in Cyrodiil; those same warriors lay their heads and trained within those hallowed halls.

"I…," Hunter began weakly. Brandr nodded slightly, understanding "Cannot believe it, can you?" Hunter turned to him and laughed. "Not in the slightest." Brandr smiled, and continued:

"I recall when I was a boy, my father would take me up to Jorrvaskr, and he would sit me upon the rampart, to watch the great warriors train."

Hunter turned to him, completely enthralled by his tale. "No shit?"

Brandr let out a deep laugh, mouth open, head rocked back. "Aye, no shit. I even saw the great Harbinger, Kodlak Whitemane, wield his mighty Warhammer."

Hunter's mouth was nearly agape.

Smiling, Brandr continued, "Watching the huntress pincushion targets with scores of arrows, and a Companion cleave three hay targets with his greatsword, It was… It kindled a fire within me."

"It stirred you to become a guard, did it not?

"Not only that, but I too hope to become a Companion too, one day, and learn to better protect those who live not only in Whiterun Hold, but all of Skyrim."

"That is very admirable of you."

Brandr shrugged, "One day."

They lingered a moment, and at length, Brandr lightly slapped Hunter's arm with the back of his hand, getting his attention, "Come, we must seek out the Jarl for the kind folk of Riverwood."

They continued on, passing through the courtyard, coming to the foot of an even greater sight.

Rising straight ahead was another stone staircase, rising up toward a stone wall, with large spouts spilling out water into the streams, which continued down through the rest of the city. Brandr urged them make haste, and they jogged up the steps, which turned to the right, ramping up over a small dam, and then back left, up to Dragonsreach. The deep roar of waterfalls could be heard the entire way up, and as the stairs leveled out, the full towering splendor of Dragonsreach became visible to them. A wooden series of archways towered high above their heads, reminding Hunter of the ribs of a great beast, and giving him the chills. The evening sun was setting behind Dragonsreach, painting the wooden trusses and flying arches in an orange halo. "We have word of the dragon attack, let us speak to the Jarl," Brandr stated. Hunter's eyes snapped down to see whom Brandr was speaking with.

His heart sank.

Imperials.

"Who in the Hells is he? Some ruffian looking for a reward?"

Hunter was silent, and after a moment of tense silence, realized they were waiting for his response. "Well?"

"I am simply a hunter from the area," he hastily replied. Calmer, "the townsfolk requested I make the trip, as I know the woods well, and could make the trek with ease."

"With ease?" The other spat. "There is a fucking road leading right here!" he gestured to the ground before his feet. "A child could skip to Whiterun from Riverwood!"

"Certainly a Nord child could, as well as manage the bear and wolves that inhabit the wood." Brandr began, with a scoff.

"Perhaps you could take a few notes? Seeing as it appears you have one in your womb." Hunter calmly continued, staring him dead in the eye and grinning. The imperial looked down at his gut, sneering.

Brandr snorted, and composing himself quickly, pulled the great, iron-reinforced door open. They entered, leaving the frustrated, stammering Imperials behind. Hunter's heart began to race as the door close behind him. Into the belly of the beast, he thought. This city must be crawling with Imperial soldiers.

"This way," Brandr bid him continue. They walked down the great hall, with its enormous vaulted ceiling and ornately carved wooden pillars. Voices could be heard further down the great hall, and cresting the wide stairs before them, opened up a banquet hall with two parallel tables. A few officials lazily dined there, and at the opposite end of the room sat the Jarl. He was reclined in his throne, with his fingers holding his chin, listening intently to the murmurs of an Imperial Officer. Hunter's feet turned to lead bricks. Each step forward took such effort, as he felt the eyes of all in the room seemingly snap to them. The Jarl was flanked on either side by an adviser, who happened to be an imperial by blood, and a dark elf, apparently his bodyguard, as she stopped them before approaching the Jarl and his guest.

She asked Brandr what his business was, and that of his guest. Upon hearing his whispered response, she grew visibly tense, and her eyes briefly widened, then rapidly narrowed to slits. She sized up Hunter, and then approached the throne. The Jarl held up two fingers, bidding the officer pause, and then she dark elf spoke:

"My Jarl, one of my men says he has a citizen with word of the dragon attack at Helgen."

Hunter nearly breathed a sigh of relief. He could work with this.

The Jarl shifted forward, and sat upright, resting his elbows on the arms of his throne and interlacing his fingers.

"Does he now?" He said in a paced, deep voice with a heavy Nord accent.

All eyes shifted to Hunter. For him, time stood still.

"Aye, Sir... My Jarl, I…" He paused a second, clearing his throat. "Well, I saw it attack Helgen, and Riverwood requests reinforcements, should the dragon still lurk in the mountains."

He paused. Hesitant to continue, he cursed himself mentally for being so sheepish. Wishing to make up for his error, he interjected, "They are nearly defenseless, Sire, the dragon is… well… even with so many soldiers at Helgen, they could not stand…"

He was interrupted by the officer, "And what were you doing at Helgen? Who are you, coming forth with this information?"

"I am simply a hunter from the woods south of Riverwood. They asked me to come deliver the…"

"And how in the Hells did you behold such a sight, and live to tell about it?" He stepped closer, squaring off against Hunter.

Hunter paused, sensing the tension mounting. The Jarl was silent. He was alone with this one.

He drew his eyes from the Jarl, and addressed the officer in calm, measured tones. "I was out laying snares for rabbit, as the season is coming soon, just south of Helgen. I planned on stopping there to purchase some supplies, as I made my way down the valley toward Riverwood, when a great wind could be heard from afar." He shifted his gaze to the Jarl.

"It was startling, and I could feel it. Deep, in my chest." Hunter placed his fist over his heart. "It grew louder and louder, headed straight for me, or so I thought. I searched skyward to the trees, and saw a black mass fly with such great speed overhead. It nearly knocked me down. I was startled, and certainly terrified. Yet, I could tell it was heading towards Helgen, so I ran in that direction. Not long after, did I… I started to hear the chaos unfold. The screams were…" Hunter paused, shaking his head, legitimately shaken.

The lifeless body of the woman flashed behind his eyelids.

The officer looked at the Jarl, and the Jarl sat back.

The archers consumed in flame.

Hunter composed himself. "I weaved my way through the forest to the wall, and could quickly see the smoke billowing up. The dragon was circling overhead, and by the time I arrived, well, there was not much left. It took off, and I saw it head north, along the mountains, toward the Throat of the World, though I doubt it held that course for long."

"And why is that?" inquired the Jarl.

"Well… I know not, but, why would it? There is nothing but snow. Dragons lust for treasure and carnage, am I right? It can find neither along that route, and I fear it is not yet satisfied."

No one moved, but after a moment, the Jarl nodded, seemingly in agreement.

"I fear," Hunter continued, "that Riverwood is incredibly vulnerable at this moment, for if the beast still lurks nearby, it is a prime target."

The Jarl dragged his hand over his face, stroking his blond beard, and pointing at Irileth to get her attention. He immediately commanded, "Irileth, send a detachment of guards to Riverwood immediately."

"At once, my Jarl," The dark elf responded.

"But Sire, any movement of troops southward with be interpreted as a provocation by the Jarl of Falkreath! He will see it as an act of war, as if we are siding with Ulf…"

"Enough, Aventus!" The Jarl sternly said, rising and striking his fist on the arm of his throne.

The advisor promptly shut his mouth, taken aback by the ferocity of his objection. "Do you think I shall sit idly by while my people are slaughtered? Do you think I will expose them to that risk?"

He paused.

"If that is seen as an act of war, so be it. The safety of my people is my first priority. And that is _final_." He hissed out the last word, making himself crystal clear. Aventus averted his gaze, as the lamb cowers before the lion.

Hunter grinned slightly and nodded.

The Jarl's gaze snapped to Hunter's, and held there a moment. Hunter too looked down under that pressure, though not out of fear, but respect.

"Irileth," He repeated, "please detach the reinforcements at once." Irileth nodded, and made haste up a side stair. Hunter looked up, and realized the Jarl had not averted his gaze from him the entire time.

Turning to the officer, "Continue your search of my lands, but stay out of the city. If you so much as harass a single citizen of mine…" He trailed off purposefully, again, speaking his point with his eyes.

The officer nodded, and was off, scowling.

"Thank you, you are dismissed."

Hunter and Brandr turned to leave, but were cut off.

"No, not you."

Brandr continued, and Hunter turned, standing tall, arms at his sides, he faced the Jarl.

"Leave us."

With those words, the adviser scurried off as well.

"What is your name?"

Hunter paused, hesitant to answer, as he opened his mouth, Balgruuf held up his hand slightly. "Does not matter," he finished. Hunter eased back, less tense now.

The Jarl paused at length, then said, "Did the folk of Riverwood pay you for this?"

Hunter paused, uncertain of how to respond. "No, they did not."

"Then why did you travel this length to help them?"

"Well… um, It was just… Why should I not? They needed the help?"

The Jarl nodded. He raised his hand, and snapping his fingers, called over a servant. The servant ran up, hastily. She was a girl of about seventeen, a few years younger than Hunter. The Jarl bid her come to him, and he murmured something to her. She scurried off.

He stood at length, sizing up Hunter.

After a few moments, she returned, handing a small leather sack to the Jarl.

"You have done my people a great service: one that was not demanded of you." Slowly walking forward, "And for that…" He paused, lightly tossing the leather sack to himself, making it apparent it contained coins. "I am grateful." He set the purse in Hunter's hand.

"Sir, I cannot accept thi…"

He continued.

"Night is upon us. Seek out Hulda, owner of the Bannered Mare. Tell her who you are, and who sent you. Rest easy tonight, traveler."

He looked Hunter dead in the eye and said simply, "Thank you for your help."

Hunter nodded again, and after the Jarl turned, he took his leave.

The Jarl sat back down, reclined again, and called out to him.

Hunter turned, and standing there tall and proud, he replied: "Yes, Sir?"

"Skyrim needs more men like you."

Hunter was taken aback by those words, hearing Ulfric's voice echo through the hall.

"Thank you, my Lord."

Hunter turned, respectfully nodding, and took his leave.

Walking past the banquet tables, he realized he had completely forgotten the officials dining behind him. Walking out, he made eye contact with a woman at one of the tables dressed in plainclothes, unlike the others, seemingly out of place. She had long brown hair with two thin braids tying the rest back, keeping it out of her face. She had piercing, hazel eyes which seemed to study him every which way. He nodded, with a half-cocked smile, and continued on, making his way into the darkening city.

The imperials had departed, having been replaced by two Whiterun guards. Hunter nodded and passed, stopping just before descending the stair, taking a moment to soak in the sight of the sprawling city and surrounding lands before him. Straight ahead, across the farms, past windmills in the distance, he could see the edge of the wood, sloping up toward the mountains to the south. The White River and the road leading to Riverwood emerged from it, simple pinpricks in the distance. Hunter followed them with his gaze, tracing it all the way back to where he stood now.

"What now?" he asked himself, under his breath.

It was quite the haul back to Riverwood, he realized, and had made it in fairly decent time a mere hour previous. With that thought, it became quickly apparent to Hunter he was exhausted, and wanting of food and drink. In all the excitement, he had lost track of his needs. Taking a deep breath of the cool, brisk air, he made his way to the Bannered Mare.

 _…Opening the door to the Bannered Mare bathed me in a yellow light, warm yeast-scented air, and a mild murmur of voices and merriment normally associated with any tavern. Closing the door behind, I hesitated, scanning my surroundings. The bar was to the right, and in back, were stairs, leading to an upper room. To the left, led a doorway, perhaps to a kitchen. In the center were four wooden pillars, at the corners of a fireplace. There were benches around, and a few tables in the corners, with perhaps a dozen people inside, eating, drinking, or talking. I went up to the barkeep, a middle-aged woman with shorter, reddish hair…_

"Good-evening, mi'Lady. I was sent here by the Jarl for a place to stay, my name is Hunter. He said I should seek out a maiden by the name of Hulda."

"I do not know about a maiden, but otherwise, that would be me," she smiled. "You are the messenger from Riverwood, then?"

Hunter looked at her quizzically, "Yes, I…"

"One of his servants came by and filled me in. What can I do for you, dear?" She also spoke with a thick accent, curling some the words at the end.

"Well, I was hoping for a room, if possible?"

"Oh, of course honey, I'll get you all squared away."

She went back toward a cabinet, and poured a mug of ale. Looking back, she said, "Please, sit, you must be tired, sweetheart."

Hunter smiled, nodding. He did so.

She placed the ale before him, and stood back, hands on her hips. "Saadia!" She called out.

"Yes, m'um?" A voice from behind Hunter, in the kitchen, responded.

"Please fetch a big bowl of venison stew and bring it here!"

Hulda reached out a finger, and poking Hunter on the forearm, said "You'll love my venison stew. It has a good way of filling your belly after a long, hard day."

Hunter nodded thankfully from behind his mug of ale.

She pulled a fresh loaf of bread from the oven, and split it, lathering it with butter from a wooden bowl. It melted instantly, and the sight made Hunter's stomach growl. She laughed heartily, as did the man sitting a few seats away. Hunter smiled, and shrugged at the man.

"Long day."

"Aye," he said, raising his mug.

Hulda shredded some cheese, and sprinkled it on the bread. As she was dicing some garlic, a woman placed a bowl of stew in front of him. Leaning out of her way, and glancing up to thank her, Hunter noticed she was a Redguard.

"Saadia, correct? Thank you very much"

He flashed a smile, and she nodded slightly, though a touch colder than he had anticipated. She made her way back to the kitchen, and shortly after, Hulda brought him the bread.

"Sorry about her, she isn't the warmest to customers. Don't take it personally."

"Thank you for the bread and stew, it all looks delicious, mi'Lady."

Hulda bowed her head, and curtseyed jokingly with her apron.

Hunter smiled and began to eat. He was ravenous, and within moments had finished.

"Well, you certainly did that in quick! Want some more?"

"Oh, no please, I'm quite alright."

"My, you're the first to not like my stew! I had thought all along it was a favo…"

"Oh no no no, It's great, really, I just…"

"Excellent, then you'll have some more!" she said, patting him on the shoulder as she walked around the bar to serve one of the tables a pitcher of ale. "Saadia...!"

This went on for another bowl, and after that, she even grabbed him a rabbit haunch with a baked potato to fill him up.

"By the divines, no wonder you're so muscular! You eat like a pack of wolves."

Hunter laughed, "I guess one could say that."

He stood up to pay, but she would have none of it.

"Free of charge, as per the Jarl's orders."

"Oh, no, I cannot accept this, please, I have got the coin…"

"I'll hear none of it!" she said emphatically, closing his hand on his coin purse.

Hunter sighed, looking at her questioningly, but she would not flinch.

"Fine, fine. I'll pay for his drink then." Hunter said as he slid a coin the old man's way along the bar.

The man nodded gratefully, and Hulda smiled, wiping out a mug.

"When you are ready to retire, your room is right up the stair, you have it all day tomorrow as well."

He moved to pick out a few Septims, "Not a chance!" She shouted, and shooed him away with the towel. He bid her thanks, and made his way up to the room for the night.

 _…This room is obviously the suite of the inn, and my body, soul, and mind are grateful. Walking up the stair was a labor, and after closing the door, and drawing the sash that covered the doorway to the balcony leading over the main room of the inn, I gingerly dropped my ruck, bow, and quiver, and removed my linen shirt. My shoulders were raw in parts from the chafing of the straps, even though the load was not heavy, and my sides were bruised from the previous day's events. I locked the door, and after filling a mug with one of the blue ceramic pitchers of water in the room, I filled the wash basin. I took one of the lit candles and ignited the small oil heating torch, letting it warm the water. I removed a small cloth face towel from the cabinet, and set it out. I sat at the edge of the bed. While removing my boots, I realized to my horror that without any foot-wrappings, my feet were shredded, blistered, and raw. I removed both boots, and gently rested my heels on the ground, as I flopped back onto the bed. I nearly fell asleep then and there, but quickly stood and removed my pants after setting my dagger next to the wash basin. I proceeded to wash my face and neck, and then hands. I left the towel, and simply shook like a dog to dry. I emptied the basin discreetly out the window and after drinking and refilling my mug with the remaining pitcher, refilled and heated the basin. This time, I placed it on the ground before the trunk in front of my bed, and tenderly washed my feet. I dried them, and neatly organized my belongings, quickly taking note of all I owned, jotted down the list here:_

 _Linen Pants, Shirt, and Loincloth_

 _Linen Cloak, and Leather Boots_

 _Small Rucksack._

 _Long bow with 17 arrows_

 _Iron Dagger_

 _Brown Woolen Blanket_

 _Small Waterskin_

 _19 Septims_

 _…I quickly repacked all I had, and slid it under my bed. I readied my boots and clothes, as well as slid my dagger in its sheath under the feather pillow. Everything is ready, should I need to make a run for it in the night. My eyelids grow heavy as I write this. I believe this is the first time I have ever lain upon a featherbed. No wonder noblemen are so lazy all the time…_


	3. The Fox and the Hound

**The Fox and the Hound**

 _9_ _th_ _of First Seed, 4E 201_

 _...I awoke with the sun, having rested heavily in my lavish accommodations. I made my way downstairs after tidying up the room, pulling on my clothes, and gathering my meager belongings. Hulda was moving half-baked loaves of bread around in the oven, and Saadia was sweeping…_

"My, child, you are up _early_! Why don't you sleep in?"

Hunter smiled, and descending the last few steps said, "I always wake with the sun, either on the rise or set."

"A true worker… _impressive_."

He shrugged humbly, "I've hunted most of my life, so getting an early start has become second nature to me."

"You've come to the right city, then, as Anoriath in the market is so keen of saying." Hulda straightened up, and imitated a man barking wares, "Fresh from the wilds! The plains of Whiterun are ripe with game!"

Saadia giggled, and Hunter smiled politely, but did not quite understand.

Hulda slowly stopped laughing to herself, and returned to the oven. Sliding in a wooden peel, she slid out an enormous danish she had made. Quickly, she put it on a plate, added cream cheese to the center, and drizzled it with an apple frosting. She poured a glass of milk, and placed the assortment in front of him.

Hunter was astonished.

"Well, if you're looking for a good start to the day, a great breakfast is the way to do it!"

Hunter looked back and forth between the danish and her.

"Well, don't just look at it! Eat it, boy!" She laughed, and returned to her work.

Hunter finished it quickly, with far better manners this time, and downed the mug of cool milk. "Well, looks like I'm a milk-drinker after all."

Hulda chuckled.

"Thank you, mi'Lady, that was delicious."

He gently placed three Septims down, and made his way outside into the cool morning air. Hoping to repay Hulda for her kindness, Hunter went around to the back of the inn, and chopped her a few armfuls of wood for the fireplace. The great swinging motion helped him limber up and get active for the cool, brisk air of the morning.

By the time he finished, the sun was just above the easern tundra, bathing the now stirring city in a yellow light. He carried the wood in through the kitchen, and organized it alongside the fire.

"You're a sweet one, you know that?" Hulda said, placing her hands on her hips.

"It's no trouble, you've been too kind to me."

"And why do you suppose that is?"

Hunter shrugged, smiling sheepishly. "I know not… my charm?"

Hulda chuckled, "At least you did not say your wit!"

Hunter laughed loudly, and Hulda bid him come to the bar. She slid him six coins. Hunter frowned, unsure, "Ma'am, I…"

"Take it." She implored, gesturing at the coins, while tying the purse. "Honest pay for honest work."

Hunter did as told, and thanked her. She waved it away, thanking him for the wood.

Once Saadia had gone back into the kitchen, and he had ensured Hulda was preoccupied with the oven, Hunter placed two coins back down. Smiling, he exited the inn.

It was seven o'clock, and the venders were opening their stalls, laying out wares. Hunter knew he only had so much money, and would be hard pressed to make it last. He needed to purchase supplies to continue on, away from the empire and its clutches. There was a guard leaning against a post holding up the awning between the shops, so he made his way over to him.

"Greetings, friend."

"Traveler."

"I am new to Whiterun, and was hoping you could point out which shops I might attend to stock up on supplies for a trek?"

"I know you are," the guard said simply.

Hunter cocked his head slightly, perturbed by the response, before he recognized the voice.

"Brandr?"

The guard laughed and removed his helm. "Got me."

Hunter smiled, and they clasped arms.

"I see the Jarl was pleased with your news?" He said, nodding at the Bannered Mare.

"I wouldn't say pleased, but definitely grateful."

Brandr nodded, "Leaving so soon, then?"

"Aye," Hunter said, slightly solemn.

Brandr nodded, and leaning off the post, turned to the left. Gesturing to the shop neighboring them: "Belethor's General Goods would be a start. He's a skeevy little man, but he has good stock."

Hunter looked at him questioningly, and Brandr shrugged, "You'll see for yourself, he's a greedy little man."

Stepping past Hunter, he pointed down the road towards the gate. "Down there, on the hill, you have the Drunken Huntsman, which also sells bows and arrows and other hunting supplies. Next to the gate, you have Warmaiden's, for any armament or tools. Here," he pointed at the stalls, "You can get yourself meat and other foodstuffs. Either inn would be happy to sell that to you as well."

Hunter nodded, looking about. His gaze rested on the stalls lining the walk to the gate, still empty. "What about those?" Hunter asked, pointing.

Brandr followed his finger. "Ah, those," he sighed, "those are for travelling merchants that come to the city to sell their wares."

"Huh, I see… and… why are they empty?"

He scoffed, "The roads are far too dangerous with the war. The soldiers on both sides stop caravans and take what they want. If that does not do them in, the banditry has gotten out of hand. Not just in Whiterun, mind you, but the whole of Skyrim."

"…Because the empire won't _waste_ resources on fighting the bandits when they must fight the stormcloaks," Hunter finished, sarcastically.

"Exactl… Perhaps. I mean, perhaps." Brandr started, enthusiastically, but reigned himself in.

Hunter grinned slightly.

Brandr quickly cleared his throat with a smile, whilst looking around, and changed the subject back to bandits. "Whiterun used to be a hub for trade, with all sorts of exotic goods from Tamriel stopping here on its way to the holds. In fact," he pointed to the guard house by the gate. "The East Empire Company once had a tariff station right where our gatehouse is now."

"Is that so?"

"Ya."

"Pardon my intrusion, but why can't more be done about the bandits?" Hunter feared he had stretched himself too far on this one.

Brandr scoffed, looking around once more. Leaning in, he said in a hushed voice: "Between you and myself, it's because our captain, Commander Caius…"

Hunter nodded, and Brandr continued, "He keeps us reigned in. I know not why, for we know exactly where they make camp, but he… he just refuses to let us go out and take care of the vermin."

"I see. And why is that?"

The guard looked around, "I wish I knew, probably politics."

"When is it not?"

Brandr chuckled slightly, "Aye, that is true."

"Thanks, mate, I appreciate it."

"Aye, my friend, be wary of the caves along the White River, and the tombs in the mountains. More than bandits and bear lurk in the deep."

Hunter nodded, thanked him, and walked away. After a few steps, he stopped, and turned to Brandr once more.

"How about north?"

"Well, what about it?"

"Are things any better off?"

"If you mean you wish to escape the war and the bandits, you might as well go south all the way to the Imperial City."

Hunter laughed, but stopped himself abruptly and nodded instead. He cast his gaze to the cobblestone beneath him.

"The people of Skyrim…"

The woman was lying in a pool of her own blood.

Hunter looked up, as Brandr continued.

"…They are suffering, my friend. This war has cost the livelihoods of more than just the men fighting it." It took Hunter a moment to realize what he had said.

"Aye, war has a horrible way of doing that," He replied, at length.

Brandr nodded. "Talos guide you, kinsman."

Hunter was slightly caught by surprise, "Same to you, brother, thank you for your guidance." He said, putting his fist to his chest.

Brandr nodded, putting his helm back on, and leaned back against the post; leaving Hunter to his ways.

Hunter filled his waterskin at the well, before walking over to a woman selling vegetables, dried fruit, and bread. "Hello, mi'Lady."

"Hello, what can I do for you?"

"How much would a small loaf of bread cost me?"

"Two Septims."

"I will take one then, thank you." He handed over the coin, and she handed him the loaf.

He began to walk away, but turned, and asked, "Do you happen to have a cloth I could wrap this in?"

"Certainly." She reached under her stall, and pulled out a thin square of cloth, handing it to him.

"Thank you again, have a nice day."

"Mhm"

He nodded, smiling, and walked into Belethor's, drinking some of his water.

A man with the bushiest, ugliest mutton chops stood behind a quaint counter.

In a raspy voice, he shouted, "Welcome, welcome! Please, come in!"

Hunter walked up to the counter.

"What can I interest you in? I have plenty of treasures, fitting for any customer!"

"Do you have a flint, whetstone, belt pouch…" Hunter looked about, pausing. "Some twine or rope, and…" He drummed his fingers on the counter. "a sewing needle?"

"Why certainly, my good sir." He turned around to the shelf, and plucking up an item here or there, began working his way throughout the shop.

"And, what are the prices for these?"

"The flint will cost you a gold piece, a sewing needle is two, along with a two arms-length spool of twine." He brought out a few bundles of rope, arraying them on the counter.

Hunter waved them away. "I will not need that, my apologies."

Belethor shrugged, and continued. "The whetstone is five, and the belt pouch with drawstring is four."

"Five Septims for a whetstone?"

"The war has elevated prices, my boy."

"The war has given you an excuse to elevate prices, it seems."

Belethor seemed shocked at Hunter's abruptness.

"Thank you for your time, but I believe I'll take my business elsewh…" Hunter remarked, turning to leave.

"Wait, wait, wait," Belethor exclaimed, pursuing him around the counter.

Hunter stopped and turned, eyeing the short Breton.

"Okay, fine, I will give it all to ya for ten instead of fourteen."

Hunter extended his hand to the short little shopkeeper.

"Deal."

The Breton breathed a sigh of relief, and they returned to the counter. Hunter gave him the ten septims, and Belethor counted them as Hunter carefully began packing the goods. Tying the leather pouch to his pack, and tucking it on the inside so it would not be ripped off, Hunter placed the flint and whetstone, with the rest of his coins.

 _…Packing up my goods, I made one final stop at the Bannered Mare, thanking Hulda once more for the hospitality. She refilled my waterskin, but I would not accept any food she offered me. Not this time, at least. I exited the city, nodding to the guards in respect as I left, with the sun now slightly above the peaks of the mountains, at nearly 8 o'clock. I tread purposefully down the road, approaching the stables on my left, with the farms dead ahead and workers toiling in the fields: preparing their portion of the land for this spring's crops. The further I retreated from the city, however, the less lengthy and confident my strides became, until I slowly came to a halt. Shaking my head, I continued on towards Riverwood. Something was nagging at my heart, and I fear it has not passed yet. I encountered no issues the whole hike back, and enjoyed it to a greater degree than previously. Just before sundown, I reached Riverwood, having made excellent time. Entering the town, I realized scant had changed, as the blacksmith hammered at his forge, and chickens strode across the road. I relayed the news of my travels to Hod and Gerdur, and they seemed overjoyed, bidding me join them for dinner and stay the night. I obliged, Hod having informed me they had encountered no more issues with the imperials. The bed was not nearly as comfortable as Hulda's, but I fell asleep quickly nevertheless, and equally grateful I was…_

 _9th of First Seed, 4E 201_

 _…Awaking the following morn, I slipped from Gerdur's home and made my way to the mill, where I removed my boots, and waded into the rushing waters. I drew my bow, nocked an arrow, and waited, enjoying the numbingly cold water soothing the aches on my feet. Seeing a familiar glint in the water, I slowly and purposefully slid my feet over the smooth black stones, took aim, and fired. My arrow plunged into the clear depths of the waters, and bobbed up, trout skewered lengthwise. Smiling, I hopped through the water, retrieving my catch, and quickly dispatched it, hating to see even the smallest of game suffer. Moving upstream, I took a larger salmon, and made my way to the bank. I glanced up to notice some local children watching me from the fence near the mill. I waved, and pretended to slip in the water, much to their amusement. Returning, I found Hod awake. The two of us prepared breakfast for Gerdur and their son, Frodnar, still slumbering from the eventful nights. While our game cooked, Hod and I chopped wood for the better part of an hour, enjoying the morning air, and chatting idly about all things under the stars…_

"So where do you come from, kinsman?"

Hunter paused a moment, splitting a log with a straight-hafted double-headed axe. Hunter knew he could trust Hod, but was not sure how much he wanted to relate of his life to the people here.

"South of here, originally."

"Ah," Hod said, standing another log upright. "And you are a hunter for a living, then?"

"Aye," Hunter said, splitting another log. He was moving much faster than Hod.

"Fitting name then, eh?"

Hunter smirked, "Yeah, I hear that a lot."

"Your parents must be proud you followed true to your birth name, then."

Hunter shrugged, "It was actually a name given to me by the town, as I don't quite remember the name my mother gave me."

Hod was silent, "Oh." He said simply.

Hunter hoped Hod did not feel uncomfortable; he certainly did not, talking about it. Not anymore, at least.

"Aye, it was a given surname, actually, as she never knew my father's last name, or rather, if she did, didn't give it to me… So for the first few years of my life, I just had no last name." He split another log, continuing, "I was simply _the bastard_ or more often, the _whore's whelp_ , for a while growing up,"

He kicked them aside and set up another, "After she died, when I was about, four, I believe? I had nothing, and nowhere to go, so I was just a little street urchin. I would get looked after, here and there. Thankfully, people would give me food and sometimes let me sleep in their barn and such. Eventually, I got into hunting, and I guess the town took pity on me, so they gave me the surname of 'The Hunter.' Apparently, no one else had really bothered to learn my name in the first place, and there isn't much use in a surname without a given name, so everyone just agreed to call me Hunter one day, I guess."

Hod had no idea of what to say, so he continued to chop wood, clearly more than slightly uncomfortable.

"It's no big deal, truly." Hunter offered, trying feebly to mitigate the tension without being too obvious. "I have made my peace with it."

Hod nodded, "And of your mother and father?"

Hunter shrugged, "My father was a Nord, from Skyrim, and my mother, an Imperial, from Cyrodiil."

Hod looked up, in sudden realization. "Oh, you're a… uh, mix, then?"

Hunter laughed audibly, "Aye, a lot of people are surprised at that."

Hod nodded, "No offense, of course."

"None at all," He set up another log.

"I guess I can see it now, it definitely explains the dark hair and sharp jaw on a big Nord." He said, gesturing.

"In part, yeah," Hunter split the log, "I was a scrawny little boy for a while though. I grew out of it sure enough."

 _…The conversation spiraled elsewhere, mainly to nature and hunting, before Gerdur called from the house. Hod delighted in hearing my tales of hunting wolves for the townsfolk in the deep wood that was my home. We returned and sat down for breakfast, savoring the boiled fish with egg, cheese, and bread. Hod let me keep the axe, and I lashed it to my rucksack. Bidding them farewell, I left Riverwood behind me and continued northward. Finally, I am free to trek onward and leave the Empire behind me. Solsteim, maybe? It is far too foreign for my liking. Hammerfell? I know I will never be safe from the empire, but as long as I surround myself with others wanted by them more, I should remain the least of their concerns. I continued northward, though my feet got the better of me, and I sat atop a boulder in a small clearing beside the road. Noticing tundra cotton around me, I got an idea. I first plucked a few handfuls, taking care to not pick any bare, and set to work. I plucked out the seeds and spun them down to rolled strands, and formed crude braids with my fingers, finally weaving them together to create a pair of roughly oval mats, about the size of the bottom of my foot. This took me nearly an hour, in which time I slid down, and sat in the grass, resting my back upon the boulder itself. I tore the cloth into six long, thin strips, and sewed two each to the bottom of each mat. Once that was complete, I ensured six inches remained on either side. I checked the feel in my boot. It was comfortable, but lacked protection for my ankles, now chafed by the linen pant legs tucked into my boots. I slipped my boot back on, and harvested a few more handfuls of tundra cotton, weaving them into four rectangles. I then sewed these into "T" shapes, and attached the stem of the "T" to the sole via thread, to protect my ankle and heel. I sewed the cloth strips onto them to use for tying off the wraps, and once finished, slid my boots on, satisfied with my work. Moments after moving on, I ran into a contingent of Whiterun guards, heading towards Riverwood. There were eight, all dressed in the characteristic guard armor of chainmail and yellow sash, all carrying bows slung over their backs. It pleases me to see the Jarl is a man of his word. I continued on, arriving in Whiterun around suppertime, and immediately heading to the Bannered Mare…_

Passing through the closing market, he heard a voice ring out, "Fresh form the wilds! The plains of Whiterun are ripe with game!" Surprised, Hunter looked to his left, spying a dark elf in front of a stall of assorted cuts and legs of game. He smiled, reminded of Hulda's impression.

Opening the door to the Bannered Mare, Hunter was once more bathed in the warm light of the fire and buffeted with the scent of bread and ale. Hulda was busy bringing food to tables, and absently called out, "Come on it, take a seat by the fire, or at a table, I will be with you shortly."

Hunter did so, sitting down on the far side of the inn, facing the door. He set his bow and quiver upright against the chair beside him. Hunter leaned back, resting his feet on the other chair, and looked up, soaking in the warmth for a few moments.

Hunter smiled, bemused by the common folk making merry. It reminded him of home, he thought, as his mind drifted back, dozens of miles south into the Blue-Moon inn. He warmly thought of those many mugs of ale with his fellow guards after a long, hard day. He leaned his head back slightly, remembering before that, how many brawls he had fought for entertainment to make some extra coin. Hunter thought of Avinne, the barmaid, and how the men would drunkenly try to woo her, only for Hunter to swing in 'to the rescue', as she would say.

He shook his head, not allowing himself to cloud his judgment with fantasy. Gathering his things and standing, Hunter was now determined to continue on through the night. He had dawdled enough, and would be lucky to make it out of Whiterun hold alive, Hunter thought, thinking on the Imperial patrols now searching the area. As he took a step towards the door, he was intercepted by Hulda.

"Ah, I had hoped to see you again!" She exclaimed, sitting him back down.

"Thanks, I actually have to get goi…"

"More venison stew? Of course, _Saadia_!" She said, bustling away.

Hunter smirked at the futility of it all. He would not need worry about the patrols if he could not even get past the barkeep.

His thought was interrupted by the door opening.

Hunter's heart leapt to his throat, as a half dozen Whiterun guards walked into the inn, fully clad in armor.

His heart began to pound, realizing they were searching, eyeing all the locals…

Hunter glanced back, realizing he had nowhere to run.

Turning to stand and slip out, he froze.

The lead was looking at him…

And began to walk his way.

"Fuck me," Hunter whispered, sitting down, all fight having left him.

The guard strode up, and in a fluid motion, pulled out a chair, set down his helm, and flopped down.

It was Brandr.

"Kinsman!" He shouted, shoving Hunter on the shoulder. "I had thought you had left!"

Hunter flopped back into his chair, breathing a sigh of relief with a weak smile.

"Good to see you, Brandr" Hunter replied, smiling.

 _...Brandr insisted I join him and the guardsmen for a mug of ale, so I did, sitting down beside him on the bench at the long table. We drank and laughed, and again, I felt myself slipping back into my old self. It was strange, as if I had been transported back onto a time past. Nevertheless, this led to us all drinking more than our fair share of ale, and we ended up stumbling out of the tavern just past midnight. Brandr had had far too much to drink, so myself and another slung him over our shoulders and helped him back to the gatehouse. After dropping him off there, I staggered back to the Bannered Mare myself, and I composed myself just enough to purchase the small stowaway room under the stair from Hulda. I flopped down upon the bed, and quickly fell asleep…_

 _10th of First Seed, 4E 201_

 _…Had I any money left, I would gladly use it to cure my pounding headache. Unfortunately, last night's merriment and bed cost all I had, and I will be wanting of coin. As per usual, I woke with the sun, and after briefly saying hello to Hulda, made my way into the blinding light of the morning. I chopped more wood for her, and piled it inside, surprised at how quickly she used it up. When asked, she told me they go through that much wood nearly every day, implying she'd be happy if I continued chopping wood for her. She gave me a few coins for my trouble, and I set out in look for work. I would need money, even just a small sum, if I wanted to make it to Hammerfell. I tried my luck at the stable, hoping to clean stalls for some gold, but I was quickly dismissed. Working my way outward, I inquired at some of the farms for work, eventually finding a taker…_

"Well yes, we could always use a hand with preparing the field for the planting. Though we cannot pay much in gold, we would be happy to exchange food for your labor."

"That sounds as fair a deal as it gets," Hunter graciously replied, trying not to show his disappointment, as they shook hands. He could have turned and left anyway, but felt roped in at this point.

"I like that. Here, help me saddle up the oxen."

Hunter did as told, harnessing the oxen to the plow, then helped the other servants with the horse cart. Soon they were off, and as the plow dug the furrows, the horses and helpers trailed behind, gathering the large, upturned stones that had risen with the thawing frost, and chucked them into the cart. This continued the better part of the day, stopping once to deposit the stones atop the crumbling makeshift wall bordering the road. After midday, they returned to the farmhouse for midday meal, where a Bosmer by the name of Nimriel was just finishing preparing it. They had a brief lunch of bread, skeever with a pork gravy, and cheese. Hunter washed this down quickly with ale, and exited before lunch was over; to re-walk the field and gather any cobbles they had missed. Hunter easily outpaced the others with his nimbleness and strength, and this was apparent to Severio. This same trend continued for the main field and part of the side field, until sundown when they were dismissed.

 _...Severio thanked me for my hard work throughout the day, and requested I return tomorrow. I thanked him for his kind words, naturally, and informed him I would be unable to help tomorrow. He was disappointed to hear this, but pressed six Septims into my hand. I protested, stating the food was enough payment, but he insisted. I could have further resisted, but I was wanting. As I walked northward towards the city, I opted to save what gold I had by camping on the plain tonight, before I headed northward into The Pale. I believe this will be a safer route than directly eastward toward Hammerfell, as I will be passing through less of Whiterun Hold, where I know there are Imperial patrols. My stomach growled as I walked to the northwest, in the grassland just to the southwest of the city…_

Having searched only briefly, Hunter spied a rabbit lazily chewing on some grass in the lengthening shade of a shrub over a dozen paces ahead.

Hunter quickly grabbed his bow, and knocked an arrow, dropping to a knee.

He inhaled gradually, and exhaled calmly, steadying his aim.

He loosed the arrow, following its spiral an instant, before it found its mark. He ran up quickly, in case it was only wounded, but saw immediately it was given a clean death. Picking it up, he backtracked to a spring at the mouth of a small brook, and dropped his ruck next to a boulder. As he dug a small firepit and lit a fire, darkness fell around him, and the air grew colder.

Hunter drew his cloak around him tighter, and skinned the rabbit, his many years of experience in the wood serving him well. After a few moments, he skewered the clean carcass and leaned back against the boulders, after washing his hands downstream. All Hunter had to do now was wait, and so he kicked back, feet outstretched, hands under his head, just looking up at the emerging stars in the orange sky, as the moons rose on the horizon.

Every so often, he would stir to turn the rabbit a quarter, inhaling the savory fumes. He pushed together the waste on a rock next to the fire, and refilled his waterskin from the mouth of the stream.

Hunter sat back down, removing his right boot and footwrap, airing out his foot, and examined his blisters in the fire's light. He did so with the other, but not after putting his other back on. Despite the beautiful surroundings, the wilds were dangerous still, and he need not be caught without his boots on. He would have gone out in search of herbs for the rabbit, and maybe some wild vegetables, but he knew the season was too early as of yet, so he instead pulled out the pelt, and began to scrape off the bits of fat and other waste tissue from it, as he waited for his meal to cook. His stomach growled as he finished cleaning the pelt, and examined it for any excess that could rot and spoil the fur.

He turned the rabbit, and huddled closer to the fire.

Hunter smiled, thinking of the peaceful times he had spent in the forest. His mind wandered back to his little shack in the wood, to the river and all the salmon swimming and jumping. Hunter shook his head, wondering what was getting into him. All this daydreaming would be the death of him, if he did not keep it in check.

A small pop from the fire further roused him.

He turned the rabbit again, as a small drip of fat sizzled on the fire. It must be easy for the rabbit to find food in the winter, he figured, the tundra is full of grasses and woody shoots.

Hunter heard a stone grind lightly against another downriver.

In an instant, he crouched with his bow at the ready, arrow nocked and drawn back, aimed right for…

…he strained his eyes, fingers caressing the string…

His eyes widened, and he eased his bow down.

A fox was stopped mid-stride, one paw still lifted, staring at him.

Hunter winced as his eyes adjusted, realizing it was horribly gaunt: hungry from a long winter.

He sat back, and after a few moments, it slowly crept forward, into the light of the fire…

Certain animals had always been fairly trusting around Hunter: with his calm demeanor and deliberate actions. This fox had no reason to fear him.

It sat, staring at him, matted tail curling about its body.

Hunter was already reaching back for the guts and other leftovers.

He lightly tossed them to it, piecemeal. Instead of grabbing the bounty and running off, however, as he had expected, the fox just turned, looking back into the dark.

Hunter strained his eyes, and could hear more faint padding.

Slowly, a few tiny, dark-coated pups came into view, followed by the most beautiful vixen, nuzzling along a slow one.

Hunter examined the pups, as the scrawny male let the little pups at the rabbit guts. They nuzzled it, not too enticed, until the mother nudged it around with her nose, showing them it was for dinner.

They circled it, as the father moved forward to the side, watching Hunter as his family ate his scraps.

Hunter felt mild disgust rising within him, and without hesitation, he reached for the half-cooked rabbit quickly. The foxes grew tense, startled by his sudden movement.

He paused, letting them return to their meal.

He drew his dagger, and sliced off a haunch.

He hesitated, just before tossing it to him.

After a moment of thought, he set it down on a large rock, pushing it close to the fire to continue to cook, and slowly sat up, and with the male's watchful eyes upon him, carefully slid the skewered rabbit toward the family.

The vixen and her mate eyed him curiously, as the pups gladly left the waste for the whole meal.

To Hunter's continued astonishment, the male, with his eyes still locked upon Hunter's, lightly nudged the vixen toward the rabbit the tiny pups were pulling every which way in delight. She looked back at him, and with his prodding, went and dragged the rabbit further away a foot or two, bringing the pups with her, to the edge of the light…

Only Hunter and the male fox were left: both eying another in the flickering light. After a moment, the male slowly lowered himself, and began picking at the intestines and liver of the rabbit, every so often glancing back up at Hunter warily.

Hunter paused a moment, reflecting on this father fox, that would go to such lengths to ensure his pups and mate were well-fed, though he barely subsisted himself. Hunter was moved, that he would give of himself, until nearly nothing remained.

In realizing this, Hunter plucked up the last haunch from the rock, and sitting with legs crossed, leaned towards the fox, holding it outstretched in his fingers. It stopped, staring directly at him a moment, and straightened up, once more sitting down, mere feet away from his hand.

Hunter gestured toward the fox with the haunch, bidding him take it.

The fox simply stared, tilting his head ever so slightly.

Hunter gestured again, and the fox stood, slinked over, and paused yet again, mere inches away from him. After a moment, it gingerly plucked it from his hand, and retreated back to his family, where Hunter could just make out in the shadows, he devoured it.

Hunter could not help but smile at the sight. After a moment, he curled up against the boulder in the dying light, with his bow beside him.

 _…I slowly then drifted off into slumber, listening to the murmured, delighted yips of the baby foxes, as I watched the fire die under the starry, aurora-borne sky. I may have had an empty stomach, but my heart was fuller than it had been in weeks…_


	4. Petals On The Stone

_11th of First Seed, 4E 201_

 _...I awoke with the sun, ashes cold, and the foxes nowhere in sight. Gathering up my things, I continued along the westward side of the city. Flanked to the left by the plains, I began my long hike with a beautiful morning view of lush grasses and elk grazing at dawn. The sun was rising, still directly blocked by the city. Beyond that, rose the Throat of the World. Its majesty made the small mountains from home pale in comparison. I continued to admire the land as I trekked on, eventually rounding the city, and continuing northbound. The cool air hit my face, and I was unable to suppress a faint smile. Spying a watchtower constructed of stone and wood, I neared, and I could see it was manned by my compatriots, the guards. I skirted it nonetheless, opting to walk about a hundred meters to the west. As I drew nearer however, something else caught my eye…_

There were several hunters, dressed in furs, approaching the watchtower. There was something in the way they approached that nagged at his conscience. Hunter continued northward, but glanced back a few moments later. To his surprise, a pair had broken off to the west and was skirting the backside of a hill. They paused, crouching up atop it. Hunter turned, curious now, and stopped, watching them from the north. The four remaining hunters continued toward the guard tower, casually strolling.

Something seemed… off… Hunter thought to himself.

Returning his gaze to the pair, they were laying down in the grass, as if hiding just over the crest of the hill.

Hunter started to walk towards them as a knot tightened in his stomach. He drew his bow.

The four hunters neared the watchtower.

Hunter began to jog towards the pair, oblivious to him.

The men approached the guard, who bid them halt.

Hunter nocked an arrow, running with it poised in front of him.

The world stood still.

"Bandits!" Hunter shouted, desperate to provide some warning to the guards, as he drew his bow back. He crouched, lining up a shot as the first of the pair popped up, bow in hand.

Hunter steadied himself, and fired. The arrow arched lightly, but whizzed over the bandit's shoulder, as he loosed his arrow at one of the two guards atop the tower.

He cursed as the four bandits broke to a run, charging the tower and drawing their weapons. The guard backpedaled, drawing his sword.

Hunter changed targets, and ran forward, drawing another arrow. He steadied himself again, and fired it. It vaulted forth, whistling through the air and plunged between the shoulder blades of one of the four bandits rushing the guard. The bandit dropped his axe, tumbling forward face-first. Hunter drew another, and pulled back his bow, but felt a gust of air as an arrow whizzed high overhead. He spun to the right to loose an arrow at one of the archers, now targeting him. The archer rolled aside haphazardly down the hill as he anticipated Hunter's return shot. It continued on and stuck the next bandit in the gut as he turned to fire on him as well. The bandit doubled over, wincing in pain, and collapsed, cradling his gut.

Hunter leapt up, and began to sidestep toward the tower, as he knocked and fired another arrow at the first archer, now regaining his stance in a crouch.

His shot trailed just behind, but his second, fired in rapid succession, punched through the front right side of his throat, and stuck out the back. He rolled his head back, and dropped the bow, trying futilely with both hands to free the arrow.

Without hesitation, Hunter sprinted toward the tower. He dropped low, and sent another arrow careening toward the closest bandit, trailing behind the others as they chased the guard under the archway of the old gate, connected to the crumbling tower. It spun slightly in the air, and stuck in the bandit's lower back, causing him to collapse to his knees and skid forward to a stop in the same manner. He began to moan loudly and clutch his back, trying feebly to stand.

Hunter hopped back up, now a mere ten meters away from the tower. He looked up, seeing the guards atop the tower firing down on the bandits in the courtyard below.

Striding over the first dead bandit, he swept the archway with a nocked arrow. One bandit was dead already, crumpled and pin cushioned, and the other now feebly tried to lumber up the steps, battle-axe in hand, with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. With another pair of arrows, he fell as well, sliding back down the wooden stairway.

Hunter walked up to the next bandit, still rolling in pain and wincing. Hunter stood over him, watching him claw the dirt for his sword. Hunter picked it up by the leather wrapped handle. It was crude, notched and dull. Junk.

Hunter walked through the archway, "Oi, is everyone alr…"

An arrow whizzed in front of his face, clattering against the rockwork. Hunter flopped backward onto the dirt, and crawled backwards. "I'm on your side! The Hell?"

A guard ran into the archway, arrow nocked back, aimed at Hunter.

Hunter raised his hands, "No, wait, no, I'm not…"

A voice shouted out from behind him and the guard turned, then ran back to the courtyard. Hunter could hear the other guard shouting loudly, and cursing. He got to his feet, and cautiously followed, peering around the corner. The pin cushioned body had been pulled aside, and Hunter realized he had been lying atop the first guard, who was badly wounded.

Hunter walked forward, breath held in fear, as the guards crouched near his still body. There was a large gash cleaved into his shoulder, and his pooling blood turned the dirt to a thin layer of mud. It became clear to Hunter the guard was dead.

One of the guards laid his hand on his chest, while the second reached up…

…to remove his helmet.

Hunter's eyes widened, and he slowly fell to his knees in anguish.

Brandr lay there before them, dead, his shaggy brown hair half covering his face, lifeless eyes staring up above them, mouth hanging open limply.

"Curse you!" The guard shouted, after shaking his friend to no avail. He stood and kicked the bandit's lifeless body.

He turned to Hunter, in a rage. His eyes softened, noticing Hunter's morose, heartbroken demeanor, and that he was no threat.

Hunter did not even notice. He just knelt there, spent, staring at the lifeless, bloody corpse of his newfound friend.

The other guard stood and turned away. He collapsed to all fours, holding his face beneath his helm, and turned away from his body. Hunter crawled over to Brandr's lifeless form on all fours, unable to right himself. After a moment's hesitation, Hunter brushed aside Brandr's hair, and drew his hands over his eyes, closing them.

With that transition, Hunter's face turned from sorrowful to a scowl, and he stood, feeling his blood beginning to boil. He turned, and strode back toward the archway, the earth shaking beneath his feet. He scooped up the sword, and rushed out, eyes locking on the bandit, who was still clawing at the ground trying to right himself. Upon seeing Hunter, he began to plead hoarsely, and tried feebly to crawl away.

"No, no please, no, I'm sorry, no… _nnnoooo!_ " He shouted, as Hunter pressed his boot into his back, snapping the arrow as he pressed him down to the dirt.

He began to scream in terror as Hunter kicked him over. Feebly, he curled up trying to guard himself. Hunter kicked him again and again, as the wounded vermin pleaded. Hunter scowled, and raised the sword, paying no mind to slash at him. He simply hacked away at his flesh, half cleaving his forearms. He brought it high again, and continued to chop down wildly with that broken sword, grunting like an animal as he butchered him. The field was coated with the bandit's blood and gore. Hunter tossed the sword down in rage onto his mutilated corpse, and turned, walking away from the tower and toward the hill, his bloodthirst not yet sated.

His wide, rushed strides carried him atop the hill to the matted area where they had lain down in ambush. Turning his head side to side, Hunter's eyes lit upon the matted trail of grass and tinges of blood. He slowed, managing to calm himself. Slowly walking the trail, he came upon the bandit, feeble and crying, desperate to escape his fate. He rolled over, showing his bleeding belly, and pleaded for mercy.

Hunter stopped, and crouched at his feet, his grey eyes boring into the bandit's.

He stammered, sniveling, begging for life, until Hunter spoke.

"Shut the fuck up." He said calmly, and the bandit did so, blubbering.

He remained silent a while, building the anticipation.

Hunter drew his dagger, and the bandit began to plead as the other did, disgusting Hunter.

"I can spare you…"

Hunter began, "…or… I can kill you like I did the other."

The bandit began to shake, unable to comprehend, fraught with debilitating fear.

"Where is your camp?" Hunter said calmly, sinisterly.

The bandit began to stutter, absolutely terrified.

Hunter moved close, and the bandit tried to move away, flinching, but could not outpace him.

Hunter gently leaned over him, setting his dagger back in his sheath.

"That is all I want to know." Hunter said simply, interlocking his fingers, and resting his elbows on his knees.

The bandit, wide-eyed, looked him over, trembling.

Hunter lightly cocked his head, waiting patiently.

The bandit broke the glance, and in a flash, Hunter grabbed the arrowshaft in his fist. The bandit's eyes grew wide, and he squealed, drawing in short breaths. He grabbed Hunter's hands, trying to tear them away.

" _Just west, west, please, I'm sorry, please! West of here…_ "

Hunter nodded, slowly letting go. Sweat beaded on the bandit's brow, his worried eyes squinted down to slits.

"Better, very good, very good." He nodded, reassuringly. "Who were the others with you?"

The bandit glanced down at his gut, hands slipping over the blood. "I… I dunno, I just…"

"Just tell me what you _do_ know."

The bandit looked at him, aghast, mouth hanging open.

Hunter ripped out the arrowhead in a flash, trailing a thin mist of blood with it. He stood, dropping the arrowhead, and walked away a few paces.

The bandit howled in agony and thrashed around wildly. He rocked his head back in a distant scream.

Hunter turned to him, and slowly drew his dagger.

The bandit's eyes grew wide once more, and he stammered, " _Hagniir, he was our leader, the one… axe, with the axe, okay? We had camp, and, and, he… this guard post was near it, so we… I'm sorry, okay? Please! It wasn't...I just followed 'em!"_

Hunter nodded, "Is this all of you?"

The bandit nodded emphatically, tears in his eyes.

Hunter cocked his head with a snarl, squinting menacingly.

The bandit shook his head, " _No, no just a few more, back at camp!_ "

"How many?"

" _I dunno, I dunn…_ "

"Think."

He paused, his breathing ropy. " _Three… Four, four…_ "

"Okay, very good, you did very well."

Hunter knelt beside him, and began to ease him up. He winced and howled, unable to contract his stomach to sit up.

Hunter nodded. He stood, and wrenched him up by the collar, then forced him down to all fours. He began to plead again as Hunter pulled him to his knees.

"Your actions resulted in the murder of an innocent man, with the intent to continue to murder and inflict harm unto the people of Whiterun. For this, I condemn you to die."

Drawing his dagger, Hunter slit his throat. Blood sprayed upon the grass, and he shoved him forward. He landed on his side, gripping his throat as blood streamed between his fingers. His eyes were nearly all white, so wide they were.

Hunter rolled him with his foot. Hunter crouched above him, and whispered to him sinisterly, "Now follow them to Hell." Hunter stepped over him as he weakly rolled his death throes in the grass.

Hunter crouched at the crest of the hill to wipe his dagger and hands. He sheathed it, and returned to the watchtower, fuming. The guards were still there, and had folded Brandr's arms, putting his sword on his chest, pointed downward. They had their helmets off, and looked down at their comrade in mourning, whispering prayers to the gods.

… _We lay him in a pullcart, for hay, and took his body back to Whiterun. He deserved better than to be carted back like a dead animal. We refused to cover him, wanting all to see what had happened to this unsung hero. We spoke with the guards at the far wall, and lifted him up on our shoulders. We bore him home with honor, by the time we entered the city, a solemn crowd had gathered, and parted before us. Some women threw down flowers before us. I do not know why one of the guards did not relieve me, but I surely would have protested had they tried. We bore him to the Hall of the Dead, but outside the doors, a man broke from the crowd, and weakly approached us. He was Brandr's father, and upon seeing his son, broke down to tears, and mourned him. I stood in front, holding his wounded shoulder, and the man was before me, pressing his head against that of his dead son's. The rawness of the emotions before me nearly overcame me as well, though I dare not show them. He fell to his knees, hand outstretched atop his son's head, and we lowered him down, turning inward, so as to support his body. He held his head in his wrinkled hands, tears brimming and falling down into his grey beard. I remember not how long we knelt there, a father and his son alone amongst hundreds. He was helped up by a friend, and we proceeded to the Hall of the Dead, where we lay him upon the marble table, and bid our farewell to our friend, and our condolences to his father…_

The six stood guard many hours over their friend and his father from the shadows of the crypt. Hands folded before them, heads bowed in mourning. It was at this point, his father spoke.

"Who did this to my boy?" His voice was strong, rough, and aged, like worn leather.

None spoke for a moment.

"Bandits," Rogniir said: the one that had aimed his bow at Hunter.

There was silence for several long minutes.

He nodded, then paused a moment, and shook his head. He let it hang low: the toll of speaking having overcome him.

The men stood in silence for several more hours, until they were relieved at dusk.

They exited the crypt, into the twilight air. The sun bathed the land in red.

Pausing above the steps, they stood, and looked at one another, their bloodlust mounting with the setting sun.

"Let's go hunting," Jorrmund said.

They all nodded, shifting in anticipation.

"Let's." Hunter agreed.

 _...With that, myself, Rogniir, Lyjar, Jorrmund, Thun, and Ongar headed towards the gatehouse. They grabbed their bows and arrows, and readjusted their gear. We left in silence, ignoring a guard that asked us where we were headed. We passed through the main gate, and continued on, stopping past the stables, after the moons had just risen. Rogniir, Lyjar, and I recounted the raid, and I filled them in on what I had garnered from the survivor. The ones who killed Brandr, I said, had received the punishment they earned, but their comrades were still out there, and posed a threat to the people of Whiterun. I relayed the information we had, and we set out, crossing the tundra in silence. As darkness grew deeper, occasional small campfires were beacons of despair on the hills and mountains surrounding the city…_

Thun spat, "Curse 'em."

"They may not all be bandits," Lyjar replied, "But those that are deserve our steel as well."

"Aye," they all muttered.

"Are there truly that many?" Hunter asked.

They nodded, "We dare not venture past the watchtowers anymore, I cannot imagine the regime of fear they live under in Rorikstead." Thun said.

Ognar added, "It is a disgrace Caius holds us back, but we'll show them now."

The others muttered their agreement, and Rogniir continued, "Fuck Caius, we don't need him."

Lyjar interjected. "He is right, many men have gone off to fight in the war, but we will still stand between the good people of Whiterun and those bastards, and ought to do more."

Hunter nodded, "Those men made their choice, they have earned their punishment."

"Now for us to deliver it," Jorrmund said, smiling.

After an hour or two of searching, Hunter knew they were getting close.

He held up his hand, giving them pause. He made a hand signal, imitating smelling, and they did so. Rogniir recognized it, whispering. "There's a fire upwind."

Hunter nodded, and had them assemble into two groups of three, side by side. Pressing on, Hunter had them follow a small stream upriver. It sloped gradually upward, and was rocky in nature, with large smooth cobble, Hunter noted, unlike the others, which had a silty bottom.

They continued up it, silently stalking. Hunter would pause and listen occasionally, eventually picking up on voices in the dark. They broke eastward from the river, and made a wide arc, up onto a long hill, gradually tapered, and covered in small shrubs and a few trees. They moved northward to the end of this cover, and peering out, Thun pointed, "Oi, there's a… light, I think? What the hell is that?"

Hunter peered out, seeing it now too, it appeared to be a faint orange glow, emerging from…

He squinted, "A cave?" Ongar asked.

"No, it's a hollow," Hunter said, "Perhaps? I'm not certain."

They observed a while longer, noticing the small creek led right to it, but disappearing behind a small hill just before it.

"Let's move up," Rogniir whispered.

"Aye," Jorrmund nodded in the shadows.

"Keep low, and stop a few paces before the hill. I think they might be just beyond that," Hunter added.

"Aye," They whispered, and did so.

The wind rustling the dead grasses masked their own movements, and they crouched, just out of sight. They could hear men talking, hushed, and clearly nervous.

"I don't know, boss said stay here and cover base while they are off, maybe they decided to wait 'til tomorrow."

"That's foolish, they'd come back 'ere!"

"Like I said, I dunno!"

Hunter nodded to them to wait, and crawled forward through the grasses. Cresting the small hill, and holding his breath, he peered over into…

Nothing.

The hill just dropped away.

It was a crater of some sort, Hunter thought, as he peered to the other side, eyeing the exposed wall of dirt. It formed a horseshoe shape, open to the south, where the creek emerged. It was small, perhaps only a half dozen meters across.

The voices continued, bickering back and forth around the fire, as Hunter lay in wait. He listened a while, trying to judge how many bandits there were. After a few more moments, he slunk back the way he came, and pointed back at the ridge. They made their way back to cover, and Hunter explained the situation.

"It's like a spring, of sorts. They have camp there that had washed out a large part of the hill, and formed a sort of hidden cove in the land." Hunter drew a rough map with his finger in the dirt. They crouched around it for a closer view. "It sounds like there are only two right now, a third and fourth are possibly in the area."

"So, what should we do?" Thun asked.

"Fuckin' kill 'em," Ongar retorted simply.

"Let's do it," Jorrmund said enthusiastically.

Hunter nodded, smiling. "Let's split up. One group takes the north ledge and fires down on them. If they live and run out, they get cut down by the second team on the south near the start of the creek." He traced this out as he spoke.

Jorrmund nodded, "Ongar, Thun, on me. We shall go south."

"Wait for us to initiate," Hunter reminded, as they split up. They crept to position, and Hunter lay between Rogniir and Lyjar, bow in hand at the a top of the horseshoe.

Hunter nodded to them, and crouched at a knee, out of sight. He knocked an arrow, bow held horizontal, and rose up, powerfully drawing it back. There was a campfire in the center, with a few crates stacked around it. Two bandits sat on opposing sides of the fire, one with their back to the creek, stemming from below Hunter, and curving alongside the western wall. On the opposing side, there were ten haphazardly strewn bedrolls, all disheveled from recent use.

Hunter lined up his shot, exhaled softly, and from only a few meters away, the arrow near instantaneously split through his right temple, and dropped him cold, midsentence. The other looked up in terror to see Rogniir and Lyjar raise up and fire. He dove, tripping over the firepit, and scattering embers into the air. The arrows plinked over the rocks behind him, and he rushed, stumbling towards the opening in a frenzy, often using his hands to right himself.

He began to lengthen his strides just in time for Ognar to burst from the shadows. With a wide swing of his great double-headed battleaxe, he caught the bandit right in the midriff, and followed through him. The bandit slowed considerably, twirled halfway to an about-face, and dropped to his knees, leaning to his right. An empty wedge of midriff began to show as he crumpled over, half rent open.

"Stay here, and keep watch for the other two." Hunter said, as he walked around the hollow to link up with the others.

"Nice swing there, Ongar," Hunter said, striding up to them, clustered around the body as the blood ran the stream red.

He nodded in thanks, wiping off the blood from his battleaxe. "Let's put the bodies back and wait for the others." Jorrmund suggested.

"Good idea," Hunter said, grabbing the bandit by the arms.

Thun grabbed the feet, and as they lifted, intestines began to spill out. Voicing their disgust, Thun dropped the feet. Hunter held on, and as he began to pull, the body began to separate.

"Ugh, fuck!" Lyjar said from overhead.

Steeling himself, Hunter dragged it back to a crate, and propped him up, facing the fire. His head rolled back, mouth agape, so Hunter pushed it forward. Thun propped up an elbow on the crate, and they stepped back. At this point, Rogniir lauged, and exclaimed, "He looks passed out from too much ale!"

They all had a good laugh at that, and propped up the other in the same manner. The four headed back up and lay in wait for the other two. As they lay there under the stars, their thoughts drifted back to Whiterun, their families, the citizens, and predominantly Brandr and his father. Another half hour passed before there was any sign of movement. Sure enough, Hunter heard the light scuff of stones downriver, and voices, growing more distinct and louder. The other men grew quiet in anticipation, waiting for their prey to come into view. After a few moments, the remaining two bandits emerged from the shadows, carrying bundles of firewood in their arms, inattentively talking. Slowly, in unison, the men nocked their arrows, and rose up over the ledge.

 _12th of First Seed, 4E 201_

 _…We burned their bodies and bedrolls on the fire, and opened the crates. One had several bottles of wine, and the remainder was personal effects and other junk, nothing in particular of value. Rogniir opened one of the bottles, and we passed it around as we smashed the crates and burned them as well, along with the bandits' things. Proud of our work, and satisfied that justice had been done, we returned to Whiterun. Our talk was light, though my heart was still heavy, and in examining all the distant fires, I felt rather unsatisfied. I realized upon walking under the stone gateways into the city, that we hardly made a dent. I knew my observation was tragically sound, yet easily reconciled that with a greater understanding I had found long ago: the significance of an accomplishment is not diminished by the work to still be done. Our victory tonight may have been small in comparison, but it was a victory nevertheless, as true justice was done. I hope the others recognize this. Before I could relate it to them, however, we reached the gate and entered the city. We stopped on the stone bridge just inside, as the gate closed behind us, and to our dismay, were met by Commander Caius and several guardsmen…_

"What is the meaning of this?" he spat, "Who gave the order to desert your post?"

The six of us were taken aback, surprised by his presence.

" _Well?_ " he shouted.

"Noone did, sir." Jorrmund said, crestfallen.

"And where in the _hells_ were you then?" he sneered.

No one spoke; the guards behind Caius shifted.

"Killing those bastards that murdered Brandr." Ongar said through gritted teeth.

Caius walked up to him, face to face.

"Ah, thank you for enlightening me on your disobedience, private." He spat once more.

" _Whose_ idea was this?" he said, turning.

No one spoke a long while, so Caius walked before Jorrmund, "Was it yours, hot head?"

"Or yours," he said, turning to Ongar, "the brute's?"

Ongar was fuming, his fists clenched, eyes dead ahead.

"Well," Caius said, turning away a moment, "I could just throw you all in stocks, then."

"It was mine," Hunter said.

Caius froze, turning slowly and sneering, began, "And who do you think you are?"

Hunter did not speak.

"Nevermind," he said, holding up a hand, "I don't care."

He looked Hunter up and down. "You look like a bandit yourself," he said snidely. "Seize him."

The guards, with little conviction, walked to Hunter and grabbed his arms. They loosely bound them behind his back, took his dagger, and escorted him past Caius.

"Well? Take his bow too!"

One of the guards did so, along with his quiver, and held them in his off hand as they awaited orders.

"Throw him in the dungeon; we'll put him on trial tomorrow."

Hunter's heart sank, and looked at the others as he was led away.

 _…I could not help but think of the other day, walking this same route with Brandr, though under much different circumstances. We entered via a heavy side door to then descend cold, wet cobblestone steps to a musty, dark room. The guards spoke with another at a desk, who made some notes in a ledger. They then searched me and stripped me of all my gear, minus my clothes and boots. I was led into a cell on the end, and as the door slammed shut behind me, realized my opportunity for freedom had closed as well…_


	5. Fifty Lashes

**Fifty Lashes**

 _…It was a long night imprisoned, and an even longer day. The rats would scurry about in the hay for warmth, and everything is wet with moisture. I often would drift off to fitful sleep, only to be awoken by a rat trying to crawl under me or to the drip of water on my bare skin. There are no windows, so I have lost track of time. I presume around morning a guard came in with breakfast. Upon hearing them approach, I removed my shirt and immediately set about training, so that when the guards saw me, they saw a resilient spirit, not a conquered one. In the midst of my pushups, I was caught quite off guard by what to expect of my treatment at the hands of the Whiterun guards. I had expected rancid or stale food, or to be beaten, as I had under the Imperials, but I encountered none, quit the opposite, in fact. The guard bid me stand, and I did so. He then gave me my food of ground oats, an apple, and offered to bring me bread if I was still hungry. I was quite taken aback, and grew skeptical of his hospitality. Realizing my unfounded skepticism, I thanked him. My fears were further eased when he said he appreciated me bearing Brandr back with honor. He thanked me for that, and I nodded, humbled. He leaned in, whispering, and asked me if I really led the men in slaying the bandits. I told him yes, not to thump my own chest, but to spare Jorrmund wrongful punishment, should this be a ploy for information. I trusted this man, but not Caius. In knowing so little of the shifty commander, I could not be certain what sorts of trickery he might employ. The more we talked, the more I grew to doubt sinister motives, and I ended up recounting much of yesterday's events. He seemed in awe, and to my surprise, expressed his and many of the guards' disagreement with my imprisonment and our trial. He seemed not too fond of Caius as well, to my delight. His name was Balnaar, he said, and we clasped hands through the bars. He briefly left to retrieve my wool blanket from my ruck and hand it to me. He apologized for not having given it to me in the night, as had Caius come in and seen, they all would have faced his wrath. I expressed my gratitude, and he left once more. Although it gave me heart to know the guard was in agreement with our actions, I feared our punishment, and at the same time, feared the trial would reveal my fugitive nature to the Imperials. I shook these away, and set about eating my breakfast…_

 _…Throughout the day, I continued to physically train myself whilst I had the opportunity. In the midst of doing my pull-ups on one of the bars atop my cell, a woman walked past my chambers. I recognized her immediately, her hazel eyes shining bright even in the darkness. She was dressed in the yellow guard armor now, her silken brown hair falling down upon her shoulder. She glanced over and hesitated, staring at me a moment before continuing on. Our eyes had met only briefly, but it seemed as if she recognized me. Confusion flashed across her face, I believe, remembering me being rewarded by the Jarl, and then mere days later seeing me imprisoned below his keep. I could not help but laugh at the irony myself. Perhaps I am thinking too deeply on this, she most likely has no idea who I am. She talked out of sight with the guard at the desk, and in the silence, I could hear their conversation well. It was nothing newsworthy, though, the conversation did turn to us. Balnaar told her who I was and about last night's exchange. Apparently word gets around quickly here; I should do well to remember that. They talked of Brandr, and his father, and how the city was in mourning. He was well liked among the townsfolk, for obvious reasons. He was friendly, had a good sense of humor, and truly cared about the people, and his work. The woman said something in particular that stuck with me, 'for him, it was more than a job, it transcended to a way of life.' I had only known him for a few days, but felt those words rang true. They mentioned a few noteworthy things he had done for the folk of Whiterun, stopping brawls, a burglary, and even firing the fatal arrow to kill a bandit in their midst. I realized to my sorrow, however, that his funeral had already taken place, his pyre set alight on the great balcony of Dragonsreach, a great honor. I was crestfallen to know I would be unable to pay my respects to this great man, this friend of mine…_

… _I grew angry. Caius. That bastard, I thought. I was mostly enraged by the thought that his carelessness with the Hold's protection had resulted in one of his men's death, and all he was concerned about was keeping them in line and securing his grip on his position. I thought back to our Imperial commander back home, and his flippant regard for innocent lives…_

 _…Lunch was equally pleasant, and I spoke more with Balnaar. He apologized I was unable to attend the proceedings, and informed me he had tried to sway Caius. Apparently, the other men were unable to as well, forced to man the posts while the funeral took place. I thanked him, and inquired about the trial. He told me it would be at dusk, in several hours' time. The five of them would stand trial for desertion. As he shook his head with a sigh, I grew anxious. I would be tried for… treason. Treason? He said that Caius said, I was trying to foment a mutiny, trying to undermine his authority, and in doing so, undermine the safety of Whiterun. He told me flatly that was horseshit, but my fate would be with the Jarl. That immediately caused my heart to leap to my throat. I felt better about perhaps being pardoned, yet they may inquire further into my past. I feared this may be the end of the line for me. At least my last days were spent doing some good…_

 _…The high quality of my dinner made me fear for my longevity. It was delicious, and plenty, properly befitting of a last meal. Balnaar was solemn, and soon I lost my appetite, now realizing the gravity of the punishment for treason. I shrugged it off, not allowing myself sway from my principles now: might as well enjoy what I have before it is gone. I was able to momentarily shrug off the thought of my own death: long enough to enjoy dinner at least…_

 _…The thought of fleeing has crossed my mind. I do not deserve this punishment, should they hand it down, but there is little way I could flee, at least successfully, without turning. If I turn, however, innocent people will undoubtedly get hurt. I was able to control myself better than ever before at Helgen, but if I cannot control myself now… I shudder at the thought… I would be more of a monster than the bandits we had slain last night…_

 _…This last hour has proved the longest, but sure enough, torchlight filled the dark dungeon, and Balnaar's face faded into view. I winced slightly and smiled as my eyes adjusted, and walked forward to the bars to greet him. He stood there, stonefaced, and a second face came to light. Caius'. My smirk dropped as I saw the wry smile plastered on his face. I met his eyes, and glared at him through the bars. He scowled, and told me to step back. I did not, to his displeasure, and Balnaar went ahead to open the gate anyway. I stepped out, eyeing Caius the entire time, and held my hands out to Balnaar. He shackled them, and we turned to the right, past my cell, and up a stone stair to a wooden door. Balnaar opened it, and we were immediately bathed in bright light. As my eyes adjusted once more, I was led into the main hall of Dragonsreach. It was filled with people, and turning, I saw the Jarl seated upon his throne, flanked by Proventus and Irileth, along with a large Nord I had never seen before. I straightened up to my full height, unbent and as of yet, unbroken, to receive my fate. The Jarl looked forward at the five guards, bound, and standing in a line to the right of center, facing him. The tables were gone, replaced by dozens of standing citizens, parted in the center, to form a walkway to the great front doors. I was led directly before the Jarl, at the end of the line of guards, next to Thun. He nodded to me subtly. I returned the gesture, and looked to the Jarl, head held high. He was staring at me now, and had sat upright. He was searching me with his eyes, studying me. At length, he stood, and any murmuring behind us was immediately extinguished…_

"Citizens of Whiterun, Noblemen and women… and the accused." Balgruuf paused, "On this twelfth day of First Seed, I, Jarl Balgruuf of Whiterun, commence these proceedings to determine the guilt of these men before the Gods, and to determine… whether or not justice must be served." He returned to his seat, leaned back, and with a wave of his hand, Irileth spoke.

She nodded in respect, and stepped forward. "We will first hear the accusations against these men, and then they will be given the opportunity to answer for those accusations."

She turned to Caius, "Commander Caius of the Whiterun guard will begin."

He cleared his throat, and stepped between the Jarl and the men.

"These six men left Whiterun last night without orders, or proper permission, from their commander." He paused, examining them all. "Me. Simply put, they fled their defensive posts for the defense of this great city, under the illegal and illegitimate authorization," he turned to Hunter, "of this thug."

He paused, looking at the people gathered. "Their actions…his, actions… directly endangered the lives of all of you and your families. They endangered your property. They endangered the security of the city. For this injustice, they must be punished, not only to discourage further negligent behavior, but to enforce that this conduct is unacceptable."

"For this…" he paused, pointing at Hunter, "this saboteur of our livelihoods and safety, he must be punished wholly, for trying to foment insurrection, and open gaps in our defenses."

The crowd murmured.

He nodded, grinning wickedly, satisfied in his accusations. Hunter rolled his eyes, glancing at the other men, and they slightly smiled.

The Jarl nodded. At length, he spoke, "And who are these men?"

Caius turned to him, "Rogniir, Lyjar, Jorrmund, Thun, and Ongar, are all of my guard, but this vermin, he…"

The Jarl interrupted him with a raised hand. "I know who you are, but know not your name," he said, looking at Hunter.

"Hunter, my Lord." He said simply, with a short bow of his head.

Balgruuf nodded. "Well then, what do you have to say to these accusations?"

Hunter looked up, hands clasped before him. He stepped forward. Calmly, he spoke. "They are biased and blatantly false: based in naught but fear and a paranoid mind."

The court began to mutter to one another, but were silenced by Balgruuf.

"And why do you say that?"

Hunter shrugged, saying simply, "He claims I sought to _foment insurrection_ and _open gaps_ in Whiterun's defenses. He has no evidence, nor any reason to believe those accusations."

Balgruuf nodded, and Hunter continued. "He also conveniently neglects to mention our purpose for leaving the city."

Caius made to speak, but the Jarl cut him short. "And why was that?"

Hunter began, but caught himself, "W…" Balgruuf's eyes narrowed, but Hunter continued, "…I, decided we ought to slay those who killed Brandr… to bring justice to him."

"So you did in fact rally the men to leave their posts."

"Yes, my Jarl."

"To slay the bandits, but not to weaken our defenses? That was your intent?"

"Yes, my Jarl." Caius scoffed at that, but Hunter ignored him, "I do not doubt this weakened the City's defenses, though that was not my intent in the slightest."

The Jarl nodded, and turned to Caius, "And why to you claim that as his intent?"

Caius snapped to attention, "Well, I think that it's quite… he…" Caius paused, sweat brimming on his bald head. "He's lying, why would he tell us that was his aim?"

The Jarl's eyes narrowed, and Irilieth interjected, "Do you dare question th…"

"No, no, my apologies," Caius stammered, "I just…" he collected himself. "It appears he may be using this as a cover for his true intentions."

"Possible, yes," the Jarl said.

Hunter took this opportunity. "My Jarl, if I may…"

Balgruuf snapped his glare to him, and nodded his approval.

Hunter nodded, "I…" He paused, taking a brief moment to collect his thoughts, "I am completely responsible for my actions, and admit, that in taking these men to root out the bandits' camp, that I weakened Whiterun's defenses, putting lives at risk."

"Caius was… right. Were my aim to weaken the defenses, I would not admit it, no one would. I see, however, no motive. Does anyone?"

Hunter asked, turning slightly to a silenced room.

All were quiet. Before he could continue, however, Caius interjected.

"The bandits, he was working with the bandits."

Ongar interrupted. "We killed them, did you no…"

"Silence." Balgruuf boomed.

Ongar did so, and cast his gaze down.

"Precisely!" Caius said, stepping forward, stabbing the air with his finger. "He crossed his partners so that the remainder of the party could slip through the main gate, leading us all to believe he was working for our greater good."

The crowd murmured, and Balgruuf sat back in thought.

Sweat brimmed on Hunter's brow. He could not prove this wrong, and his gamble had not paid off.

"And did this infiltration occur?" Balgruuf asked.

After a tense moment, a voice called out from the audience.

"My Jarl."

Balgruuf nodded, and Balnaar stood. Hunter held his breath.

"We saw no such activity last night."

Caius scowled, and Hunter breathed a sigh of relief.

"My Jarl," Thun gingerly inquired.

Balgruuf bid him speak.

"If Hunter sought to open our defenses so they could slip through, would he not have tried to draw out the guards on post? The walls and gate were manned… The only post vacated was the northern watchtower, but that was so he and the men could bring back Brandr's body."

The crowd murmered, and Balgruuf turned to Irileth. She nodded.

"If I may," Lyjar interjected, "We at the tower were to be relieved by that hour anyway, so I do not believe any of us left our assigned posts."

Caius quickly interjected, "But you all abandoned your assignments, leaving the city without orders, furthermore, without orders, on a mission."

Balgruuf nodded, and the six men scowled as he turned to the audience. A long silence ensued.

"Very well," Balgruuf said, standing. "Hunter, what have you to say of this?"

Hunter was surprised at his abruptness, and collected himself. "I did rally the men to fight those bandits."

He paused, and turned to Caius, "It was absolutely not my place to do so, and I was wrong." Caius smiled at first, but then his gaze narrowed to slits.

He turned back to the Jarl, "And I should be punished for that lapse. I did not harbor any malicious intent towards the people of Whiterun, or the city itself. My sole intent was to deliver punishment unto those bandits, and prevent them from doing any more harm unto the innocent."

There was a long, tense pause, as the Jarl considered this. Eventually, he stood. "Very well." He paused. "I see no reason to believe you wished any ill upon my people, perhaps it was simply bad judgment. You have, however, engaged in a great misbehavior, and for that, you must face justice." Hunter bowed his head in understanding. He imagined Caius beaming in glee.

"However…" he interjected, grabbing Hunter's attention, "You are not a member of the guard, nor a citizen of our hold, and for that matter, you are therefore not at fault for abandoning your post, assignment, or any similar offense."

Hunter kept still, waiting, wondering where this was going.

"Furthermore," he continued, "You are also guilty of doing our Hold a great service in the past. Here you stand, again, guilty of coordinating the effort of dispose of these vermin, and do another great service to my people, albeit through an unconventional channel. It is clear to me that your intent was noble, and I do believe, due to your past dealings, that this was once more, for the good of my people."

He paused. "For that, you are deserving of praise. I hereby waive and dismiss any retributive measures against you, in light of your service. Any wrongdoing has been formally pardoned, and you are hereby absolved."

Hunter was shocked, and slowly kneeled in thanks, bowing his head.

After a moment, the Jarl bid him rise, and he did so.

His delight was cut short as the Jarl continued.

"You five, however, abandoned not your post, but your assignment, without authorization, and have failed in your duties. This crime…"

He paused, as all six looked on in fear.

"Is normally punishable by lengthy imprisonment…

"Or death…" he added, trailing off.

"…In extreme cases. You all, however, were engaging in a service to your city as well. You all may have disobeyed orders, but in order to fulfill your duties just the same."

He looked them all over, "I hereby charge you five with minor misconduct, punishable through the flesh."

The guards hung their heads, crestfallen.

The Jarl turned to Caius, "They are your men, and therefore, I will defer to your best judgment."

Caius pondered this a moment. "Ten lashes," he said. "Each."

"Very well," Balgruuf said, conclusively. "They will be administered immediately." He snapped his fingers at one of the guards to the side, who returned to the dungeon.

"I hereby conclude this trial, as all…"

"My Jarl," Hunter interrupted. All eyes snapped to him, and the Jarl scowled.

"Enough," he said, "You have been absolve…"

"I would take their punishment," he said, stepping forward, toward the Jarl. "I led them to battle, and I was responsible for their conduct."

The Jarl looked down at him. "No, you are not the party at fault."

"No, you are absolutely right, my Lord, I am not, but I am the _responsible_ party. As their leader dur…"

Caius scoffed, and made to interject.

Hunter cut him off. "…during this raid, I therefore have a responsibility for their conduct, which includes the blame for their actions."

This gave the Jarl pause, and the guardsmen looked at Hunter. Jorrmund shook his head in disagreement.

"Very well," the Jarl said slowly, pausing once more. "You may take their punishment as your own."

The crowd murmured, and the men turned to him.

"Fifty."

The crowd gasped.

"Fifty lashes." Caius continued, beaming.

The audience began to talk animatedly.

The Jarl called them to order, and questioned Caius.

"Ten lashes apiece." Caius said simply, forcing himself not to smile.

"Very well… fifty lashes." The Jarl repeated after a moment, in a solemn tone.

The guard returned with a black bull whip coiled in his hand. He stood at attention, and the Jarl called them to order. The words went quiet in Hunter's ears, and he stepped back. The audience rose in a blur, and began to bustle about. Thun grabbed him by the arm, and began talking to him, but Hunter could not comprehend, and just stared blankly. A guard grabbed him, and led him past, through the bustling crowd. He straightened, walking tall and proud, yet scared.

The great doors were thrown open, and Hunter was led across the bridge, down the steps halfway, to the landing where the stone stair turned at a stone platform. His bonds were removed, and he was held there by two guards. The audience trickled past, some glancing away as they passed him. The standing brazier was extinguished by one of the guards behind him.

The audience gathered in the courtyard around the Endergleam tree, and looked upward, some on the lower stairs. Hunter glanced upward, at the open doors as the Jarl, Irileth, and the man exited, flanked by guards. The sight of the last man to exit made his blood run cold.

Caius, grinning, slowly walked down the stair, holding the bullwhip.

The guard to his right cursed, and looked at Hunter.

Hunter straightened, steeling himself for what was to come.

"You don't have to do this, kinsman," he said beneath his helm. "No one would blame you."

"This is madness," the other whispered. "Flogged for slaying bandits?"

Hunter did not speak, but snarled, preparing himself. As the Jarl approached, he tore off his own shirt, and tossed it on the ground. Their eyes lit upon him, and Caius cracked the whip. The sharp report made one of the guards wince. He passed between the Jarl and Irileth, and stopped a few paces away. Hunter turned to the crowd, and the guards stepped away.

As they left, the first whispered in a hushed tone, "Talos be with you, comrade."

 _…I set my hands on the brazier of my own accord, and waited. I eyed the crowd, and noticed them all taken aback still seeing the scars on my body: the bite on my shoulder and gashes on my side from the wolf. I even imagine it gave the Jarl and Irileth pause. It was in the midst of this first thought the first lash came. It lit upon my back like a string of coals, hot, and left my skin raw and tender. The first dozen were improper, but eventually, he got them to crack on my body, and the whip to properly wrap over my back. It became excruciating, and I closed my eyes. After a while, I could not even keep my head up, and it hung limply. Each stinging slice felt like a hot iron lain across my flesh. Halfway through I could feel tears brimming, so I snarled, enraged, and opened my eyes wide, rearing my head up in defiance. The people appeared horrified, and some began to leave, turning away in disgust. I began to notice faces, in between each lash, where my vision would flicker. I saw Hulda leaving, and Nimriel. The woman who had sold me bread covered her daughter's eyes and turned. I saw a redguard man talking with a guard, both angry. As I braced for another lash, however, it did not come, and I turned, only to see Caius angry, and waiting, as a guard poured his waterskin on my tenderized back. It stung like mad a moment, before subsiding to become cool, and soothing. Without warning, they resumed, catching me off guard. My knees trembled as I had no idea how many more I could take before I buckled. I forced myself to remain strong, clenching my fists until my knuckles turned white. Each blow became worse than the last, to the point where I could feel my consciousness fading. I had lost count, and after a particularly brutal lash, the Jarl said 'enough' in his commanding tone. Another fell on by back, unexpectedly, as Caius turned, panting, claiming he had lost count. The Jarl snarled, and I leaned forward against the brazier…_

Hunter's head hung low, resting on the metal of the brazier, but he recovered himself, shoving backwards off it. It was difficult work, standing, and he nearly dropped to a knee. The guards rushed over and caught him, pulling his arms over their shoulders to support him. His vision flickered.

He could feel himself fade in and out as they carried him down the winding steps. After a few paces, his feet slipped out from under him, yet they held fast, and bore his weight.

Reaching the bottom, Rogniir, Lyjar, Jorrmund, Thun, and Ongar pushed through the crowd, and scooped him up, carrying him off the ground. As they wove through the crowd, occasionally a citizen would reach out and touch his hands, now dangling aside, or help hold his head up.

Hunter could hear clapping, distant now, and it would fade, as if it were interrupted by crashing waves. Turning his lolling head to the side, he saw some of the guards clapping for him as he passed. This became a crescendo, as citizens joined in the praise. As the jostling overcame him, his vision narrowed, but the last thing he saw was a familiar face very near his. He felt a strong, wiry hand grab his shoulder, and heard a leathery voice repeat, over and over, about how he did the right thing, and had delivered justice, and someone was proud. Hunter only caught bits and pieces before he slowly slipped into unconsciousness.


End file.
